Life After Us
by K-yers
Summary: Diana McCall has survived the war. Now, fresh from Europe and beginning to cope with falling back into civilian life, she has left her family behind to go to California with Joe Liebgott. Sequel to Chasing the Sun.
1. 1: Train Rides

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'd like to say that this is the sequel to my other Band of Brothers story, Chasing the Sun. So you'll have to know that story before starting this one, otherwise you'll be really stinking confused. Thank you for clicking on this story and I hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

The train rumbled under my feet. I sat beside the window and stared out at the flat landscape surrounding us. Joe was stretched out beside me, his feet reaching to rest underneath the seat right across from us. I looked over at him and saw that his eyes were closed.

"Are you asleep?" I asked.

"No," He answered, opening his eyes and looking down at me. I couldn't help but smile under his gaze-and the ring on my left hand seemed to weigh a little more every time I reminded myself that this man was the one I was running away with. Joe blinked at me. "What are you thinking about?"

I turned back to the window. "We're in Oklahoma. D'you know if anyone from Easy were from here?"

Joe frowned at me, the dimple between his eyebrows making an appearance. "I have no idea." He stretched again, groaning slightly. "God, I hope we get there soon."

"We're about halfway there." I pointed out. "It shouldn't be too long now."

"Your positivity is admirable," Joe said. He threw me a grin and closed his eyes again before sighing. I smiled at his relaxed face before leaning on him. Joe shifted so that one of his arms was wrapped around me. Between the sound of his heartbeat in my ear and the rumbling of the train, I fell asleep within a few minutes.

My dreams started off as something usual; I forgot it the second it stopped. However, right after it a horrible memory from the European front settled itself into my subconscious. I was suddenly standing in the deep snow of Bastogne, trees exploding and debris falling heavily on me. I started to run, trying to get away from the falling fire, but I looked up and saw a massive tree falling down right on top of me. I woke up the moment right before it hit me.

"Di," Joe was saying, shaking me. I blinked and stared at him; I could feel myself shaking with fear. The business man in the suit sitting in the seat across the aisle from us was staring at us with a raised eyebrow. Joe followed my gaze and glared hard at the man. "You want something?" Joe asked him sharply. The business man shook his head once and turned back to his newspaper. Joe looked back at me.

"Are you okay?" Joe asked.

"Did I scream?" I asked quietly, looking at him cautiously.

"No, you just kind of twitched really violently." Joe said, one his hands rubbing the length of my back. I could feel my heartbeat pumping inside my chest, still reeling from the aftermath of the nightmare. Joe kept rubbing my back, his face relaxing again. "You want to tell me where you were this time?"

I hesitated before saying, "Bastogne." Joe nodded in understanding and sighed. I looked out of the train window; the plains we were traveling through had turned into darkness as the sun had gone down. "D'you think that this will ever get easier?" I asked Joe.

Joe looked at me, blinking once. "Maybe in a few years. I don't think we're gonna forget it, but I do think it'll take time before it's gone."

I nodded at that logic, wondering if any of my friends from Easy were having the same hard time dealing with what my brother-in-law Phillip had called "post-traumatic-stress-disorder". Right before we left for California, Phillip had reported that most of the soldiers coming back from Europe, Africa, and the Pacific were showing signs of PTSD. Nightmares, panic attacks, and the like were becoming normal occurrences with soldiers from all over the country. I didn't think I had had a panic attack yet-but I remembered first getting off the boat coming home, how I had wanted to get far away from that overwhelming crowd.

I wanted to write Malarkey and the others, to see how they were all dealing with civilian life. I had received word from Malarkey right before I left home, telling me how some jackasses at his college had made fun of him. One of them asked how to properly jump out of a plane, and Malarkey had started to demonstrate how when the group of boys started laughing at my friend.

We had helped our country in one of the most grueling ways possible. We risked our skin for people we'd never meet. And those men had repaid Malarkey with making fun of him. The second I heard, I wanted to travel to Oregon and use Toye's brass knuckles against them. Malarkey was my best friend; and I hated the fact that we were thousands of miles from each other.

Joe kept an arm around me and kept throwing glares at the businessman who had stared. I leaned against him and looked up, hoping to draw his attention from the stranger. Joe finally looked back down at me and a slow smile came across his face.

"And to think, a month ago we wouldn't be allowed to do even this." Joe said, pushing more weight against me. I smiled at him.

"I've thought about it," I said. "Sink's rule wasn't inappropriate; I can completely see why it'd be bad if I got pregnant or romantically involved with someone over there. Hell, you almost jumped into open fire for me but the men held you back." I thought back to the battle for Foy when Dike had shoved me into the gunfire. Lipton had brought me back before Joe could dash out and try to save me. I shuddered at the memory and said, "Reasonable orders, they were just hell to follow as time went on."

Joe smirked at that. "Apparently neither of us are good at following orders then."

"We were sort of good," I countered. "We didn't do anything until the war was won. You got permission from Winters." Joe smirked again and stretched out his legs. I watched his long form carefully, trying to memorize everything about him. I wasn't sure why I was suddenly in the rush to know every aspect about him: we'd have the rest of our lives to figure each other out.

My view of the Oklahoma landscape had darkened as the sun went down. The sky wasn't completely black; it was of a blend of purple and indigo. I stared at the watercolored sky from where I was leaning against Joe. I smiled to myself, not finding it easy to believe that a little over a month ago, I was living in Europe surrounded by men.


	2. 2: A New Home

When Joe and I stepped off of the train, the breezy warmth of San Francisco welcomed us. Joe stared around, taking in the scenery. Then he looked back at me, that smug look on his face. I met his eyes and found myself smiling. Joe grabbed my hand and started to pull me away from the train.

San Francisco was so much _more_ than I thought it was going to be. Besides my family home in Alabama, the only other places I had seen were New York City for a few short days, and then wherever Easy was sent to in England and Europe. I breathed in the air tinged with salt from the ocean.

Joe and I didn't start for our new home right away; instead we chose to wander around the immediate area surrounding the train station. Everything from the buildings to the people walking past us made me want to stop and take in everything around us. "Di, you realize that we have a house and neighborhood for you to check out?" Joe asked, laughing shortly at my wide-eyed gaze. I quickly followed him back to where my stuff was waiting to be loaded into a taxi.

The driver of the taxi nodded politely to me and Joe, but I did notice him eyeing down my ear stump and the thick scar on Joe's neck. We got into the taxi and Joe gave the man the address. We were driving for a few minutes-me staring out of the window trying to take in all of the sights, Joe watching me with amusement on his face-when our driver spoke up. "You were both apart of the military, right?"

Joe and I both snapped to a sort of attention. The driver was glancing at us using his rear-view mirror, his green eyes fairly curious. "Sorry if I sound rude. You both have the look of people who have come back. I wasn't able to go and fight-I've got a bad heart."

I blinked at the man's eyes and glanced over at Joe. "We were over in Europe." I said. "Easy Company, second battalion of the five-hundred-and-sixth parachute infantry of the hundred and first airborne division," I told him Easy's official title with an undisguised hint of pride. Joe looked down at me from over his nose, smirking at me. Seeing that smirk made me want to kiss it off his face.

The driver smiled broadly at my obvious pride in Easy. "I remember hearing about the airborne. No offense, but I thought y'all were crazy for jumping outta planes."

"We were crazy," I said, thinking back to Luz, whose personality seemed to only channel crazy. The taxi slowed to a stop and I looked out of the window, not realizing that we had reached our new neighborhood.

"Well, crazy or not, I sure am thankful for what you both did over there." The driver said, smiling at the pair of us. Joe and I said goodbye before getting my suitcase from the trunk. And I finally got the first real look at my new home.

Like most houses in our neighborhood, was stuck in between two other houses ( a light blue one and a white one). It was a two-story with a sort of beige paint. A front porch looked like it hadn't been swept-I highly doubted that Joe took the time to clean up the outside before I got here. A wide set of stairs led up to the porch, and those too looked dusty and had leaves on them from the nearby tree. There was a tiny garden area in front of that porch, overgrown with weeds.

Joe returned to my side after he paid and the driver (I learned later that he also gave the man a hefty tip). "It's not much, but it's a start, right?"

If I didn't know any better, I would've sworn that I could hear a hint of nervousness in his voice when he asked if it was good enough. I turned to him and got up on my tiptoes to kiss him. Joe didn't even hesitate before kissing me back. When I finally broke it off, I ran my hands down the length of his toned arms.

"I think it's amazing, Joe." I said quietly. Joe smiled broadly at me, showing me all of his teeth.

"Then let's stop wasting time and get in there," Joe said, jerking his head towards the steps. He was indicating for me to lead the way. I smirked at him and started up the porch steps. Joe picked up my suitcase and followed close behind me. When I reached the front door, Joe handed me the key.

I turned the key and opened the door for the first time.

I fell in love with the house the moment I laid eyes on it. When I entered through the door, I found myself in a living room. Somehow Joe had gotten us a couch with a coffee table, side table, and a bookshelf over by another door. A radio stood against the wall, where we'd be able to listen to the news and the stories that would air every day. There was a staircase leading to the second floor and the door on the other side of the room led to the kitchen, I assumed.

Joe was watching me like a hawk, tracking my movements and facial expressions to see how I liked the new house. When I finally looked back at him, my happiness shining on my face, Joe's tense facial expression finally relaxed as he smiled.

"It's a three bedroom," Joe said. "That includes the master. Two baths, and we got a yard in the back-that's pretty small but we could do something with it..."

"Joseph Liebgott," I cut him off. "The house is amazing. This neighborhood is gorgeous. You couldn't have picked a better home." I stepped up to him and kissed him again. Joe leaned down to kiss me more, setting my suitcase on the ground and kicking the door closed with his foot. His hands are immediately on my hips, squeezing the skin there and pulling me closer.

I smirked, our mouths still connected. Joe broke off for a minute to kiss my jaw and neck. He started walking forward, forcing me to move backwards. My hands started to undo his belt buckle instinctively. Joe responded by beginning to unbutton my blouse. The back of my legs hit the couch and I fell back; Joe was quickly on top of me, smirking and laughing quietly to himself.

"Oh shut up," I growled softly at him. Joe's eyes flashed and he got that mischievous grin on his face. He leaned up and took off his shirt with one final movement and came back down to me.

* * *

Later that afternoon, there was a knock on our front door. I had just come down the stairs, finally finished with looking around my new house. The master bedroom already had a big bed in it, and the other two bedrooms were currently empty due to the fact that we still weren't sure what to do with them. There _was_ the idea of having a child to fill one room, but Joe and I weren't even married yet. We wanted to live our life together for a while before we started a real family together.

Joe answered the door and I spotted a woman with platinum blond hair that had been curled and pinned up. She had red lipstick on and her dress was tailored in a way that showed off her hips. From my vantage point, I saw her just barely inspect Joe before smiling broadly at him.

"Ma'am," Joe greeted her politely.

"Hello there," She replied. "My name's June Calvert-I live right next door in the white house." She stuck out her white-gloved hand for him to shake, which Joe did although he did it tentatively. "I just stopped by to welcome you and your wife to the neighborhood." She finally spotted me standing close by. "Oh, hello!"

I moved forward to greet our new neighbor. Joe side stepped to make room for me. "I'm Diana," I said. I shook June's hand and she instantly saw the ring on my hand.

"Oh my goodness!" June exclaimed. "May I?" I nodded, finding myself smiling at her infectious upbeat personality. June took hold of my hand and held it up to get a closer look at the ring. "My, my; if only my Duncan got me a ring like this!" She showed off her own wedding ring, smaller compared to the one Joe got for me. "When did you get married?" June asked.

"We actually just got engaged," I corrected her. A breeze from outside shifted my hair, slightly uncovering my wounded ear. June's bright eyes quickly saw and her smile faltered just a bit. Joe stiffened from where he stood, looking between the pair of us. June recovered her smile.

"When's the date?" She asked. "Duncan and I had our's earlier this year-in summer. Oh, it was lovely!"

I had expected her to bring up my scarred ear, or at least the thick scar on my throat that I never bothered to try and cover up. But she didn't-June Calvert just smiled at me as if I wasn't missing most of my ear and didn't have a giant scar on my neck. I blinked at her and found myself liking this woman more than I had before.


	3. 3: Interviews

Joe and I went exploring San Francisco several times throughout our first week living there. We wandered down the streets, rode on countless trolleys, and we found ourselves a nice spot on the beach near the bay. I had been walking along the surf when Joe charged at me and swept me into the cold water. We spent the next several minutes splashing at each other like two kids.

We got to meet our neighbors over the next week. A man named Bob Doyle lived right next door to us in the blue house. He had served over in the Pacific, and had lost two fingers on his right hand due to a grenade. Bob had a head full of beach blond hair and big brown eyes and freckles. I imagined how my boy-crazy younger sister would react to him, and I was certain that Elizabeth would be pining after this man the second she saw him.

Duncan and June Calvert were on the other side of us in the white house. They were both in their late twenties and childless. I ended up meeting Duncan while I was getting our mail and he had been sitting on his porch to smoke. The older man had brown hair and blue eyes, kind of homely if I was honest. But he greeted me as kindly as his wife had so the Calverts turned out to be good neighbors.

Joe started his job as a barber over by the bay. When he left the house, it didn't take long for me to become bored. I tried to straighten up the house, but that quickly got old and I found myself impatiently waiting for him to hurry up and get back.

One night I vented my frustration to Joe. "I ran around Europe with the rest of you guys," I said, laying on my back on our bed. Joe was walking around the room, dusting off any surface he could get his hands on. "I _need_ something to do, Joseph!"

"I heard one of the guys at work talking about a job his sister got." Joe said. "He said it's a secretary job down at the hospital."

"I'm applying tomorrow then,"

"You sure?" Joe asked, smirking at me. "Compared to running around Europe, being a secretary doesn't seem like something you'd want to do."

"I've had experience with medicine," I pointed out, turning my head to watch him on the other side of the room. "Besides, it's better than sitting around and waiting for you to come home all day."

The next morning, I had to take a trolley to get to the hospital, and the building itself was huge and I walked inside, looking around for the front desk. I quickly found it and a heavy set woman was sitting there. She barely looked up at me before returning to whatever she was typing. I stood at the for a brief minute before I cleared my throat. The lady looked up at me with narrowed eyes that focused in on my throat scar almost instantly.

"I'm here to apply for the secretary job," I told her, seeing as she wasn't going to ask. She blinked.

"Dr. Adkins will be with you in a moment." She said, nodding over the row of plastic chairs. I sat down in one of them and settled in. I knew that when someone says a doctor would be right with you, it meant you had to sit for several minutes before they actually showed up.

I pulled out a letter I had gotten just that morning. It was from Malarkey, who had just gotten our new address.

 _Dear Di, I hope San Francisco is treating you and Liebgott well. But when you both get married, does everyone have to start calling you "Liebgott" too? It's going to get really confusing at reunions!_

 _If I wasn't able to say it before, I'm saying it now: I'm proud of you for telling off your mom. From what you told me, I would've snapped and punched the old brawd across the face! But you held yourself together, like you always do. Your sense of control is admirable._

 _I got a letter from Faye Tanner yesterday. She told me about how she wants to meet both of us, soon she said. I want to meet her too, but not now. Not with everything Skip told us about her fresh in my mind. It'd be an insult to Skip's memory if I went falling in love with his dream girl the second I met her._

I could see the shift in Malarkey's handwriting as he talked about Skip. He still hated talking about him, and I had the feeling that he'd hate bringing him up for the rest of his life. I glanced over to where the secretary sat, typing on her typewriter and looking bored. I wondered briefly if she had known someone who fought, or if she had lost someone important. Shaking my head, I went back to Malarkey's letter.

 _I actually met a girl the other day at the diner. I honestly stopped and stared at her! You should've seen her, Di. She's got blond hair and big blue eyes; she's gorgeous, Diana. I introduced myself and got her name-Irene. We've got a date on Saturday, so hope that it goes well for me._

 _Once again, I hope you and Joe are happy down there in California. I'll be sure to be there for the wedding and I can't wait to see both of you again._

 _Love, Malarkey_

I smiled at his handwriting. I could practically hear his voice coming off of the paper, as if he was sitting right next to me talking instead of miles and miles away. I longed for my best friend to be beside me again. We had gone through so much together, from training to fighting a war. He had been the one to guard me while I showered, I trusted that man with my life.

"Ma'am?" A man's voice said. I looked up to see an older man smiling down at me. "Mrs. Turner says you're applying for the secretary job?" I nodded, standing up. He shook my hand firmly. "My name is Doctor Adkins. Please, follow me."

The doctor led me into his office on the second floor. I looked around the polished office, seeing Adkins's certificates telling everyone who entered how qualified he was to heal others. I had a sudden memory of the small hospital in Austria, where Gruber had at first been skeptical of me. The man had helped save Grant's life, and I shuddered at the thought of the bloody bullet hole in Grant's head.

"Have a seat, Miss McCall." Adkins said, snapping me out of my thoughts. As I sat down, he saw my ring and backtracked. "Is it Mrs. McCall?"

"So far, it's just miss." I said, quickly explaining that I was engaged and not married yet. Adkins nodded politely and looked down to my application.

"Before we begin, Miss McCall," He said. "I'd like to say that all of our staff must have some experience with medical supplies and skills. Do you have any experience with nursing?"

I laughed shortly without meaning to. Adkins frowned slightly at me and I cleared my throat. "Sorry sir, but yes, I can say that I've had some experience with nursing."

"Please elaborate, Miss McCall."

I brushed my hair off of the right side of my face, showing off my ear stump. Adkins stared with wide eyes, completely off guard. I sighed. "I served as a combat medic for Easy Company over in Europe. I'd say that I know my fair share of medical procedures when it comes to trauma, blood loss, frost bite, and jungle rot. I can mend a bullet hole and put limbs back into their sockets."

Adkins stared at me with something that looked impressed. "Well, Miss McCall, if you know this much about medicine, why are you only applying for a secretary position?"

"I did some research on becoming an official nurse or doctor and I'd have to go to school for a few years, and there would also be bills to pay. I'd have help from the G.I Bill, but as I already told you, I'm getting married soon. I'll need the extra money around." Adkins looked impressed, nodding every now and then as I talked.

"Well, you definitely sound like you have a plan, Miss McCall." Adkins said with a smile. "May I ask which unit you were apart of?" I told him about the airborne and Adkins's eyebrows traveled up his forehead and into his thinning hairline. We continued the interview without another mention of my military career. When we finished, Adkins shook my hand and smiled at me. "Your chances here are promising, Miss McCall."

I left the hospital with a sense of pride resting on my shoulders and I started towards the trolley to head back home.


	4. 4: The Neighborhood

That Saturday June hammered on our door until I answered. I had been in the kitchen working on scrambled eggs when I first heard her and had to lasso Joe into watching breakfast make sure it didn't burn while I answered the door.

It appeared to me that June never left her house without making sure she looked amazing. Today her dress was light blue with tiny white polka dots. She had big pearl earrings in and her white wedged shoes made her taller than me despite the fact that we were naturally the same height. She smiled broadly at me with her bright red lipstick.

"Morning, neighbor," June said cheerfully.

"Mornin', June." I greeted her, surprised that she was already dressed for the day at seven in the morning. I stepped aside to invite her in. June took a tentative step forward but changed her mind at the last minute.

"I just came by to invite you and Joe to a little backyard barbecue tonight." June said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe's head peer from around the corner. "Duncan's from Texas, so you know he knows how to cook up some amazing barbecue!" June straightened in obvious pride. I glanced over at Joe, who was still paying attention from the kitchen door. Then I looked back to June and nodded.

June squealed, bouncing on her toes. "I'll let Duncan know right away! See you both then!" She turned tail and headed back to her house right next door. I closed the door behind her and turned back to Joe.

"Have you ever had Texan barbecue before?" I asked him, returning to the kitchen. Joe hesitated before shaking his head.

"Don't think so,"

"Then you have not lived, dear Joseph," I said, gently pushing him out of the way so I could take the eggs off of the heat of the stove. Joe snickered whenever I called him by his full first name. As I scooped our breakfast onto two plates, Joe snuck up behind me and pressed his hands against my hips. I actually giggled when he leaned forward and gently bit my good earlobe. "Joseph Liebgott, if you make me mess up these eggs, I will fight you."

"Fight me then," Joe growled, nipping at my ear again. I yelped and almost dropped the spatula. I turned and swatted him in the side, but he stayed put. I turned around and faced him head on. Joe responded by grabbing my hips and pulling me even closer. I got up on my tiptoes to kiss him before pushing him off.

"Don't you have work in thirty minutes?" I asked. Joe shrugged, leaning around me to grab a plate of breakfast. He picked up some of the scrambled eggs with his fingers and dropped them into his mouth, smirking at me the whole time. I rolled my eyes at him.

* * *

That evening after Joe got home from work, we went next door to Duncan and June's. Joe rang the doorbell and it was only a few seconds before June answered. She smiled widely at the pair of us and quickly invited us in.

The Calvert's house had signs of June's decorating all over it. Their house was squeaky clean with some white doilies underneath things like bowls of fresh fruit and the like. When June went off into the backyard to go tell Duncan we were there, Joe leaned down whispered to me, "He must _really_ love her to live with all this." He gestured to the doilies.

I swatted him in the chest. "Oh, shut it. Maybe I want to cover the house in this kind of stuff." Joe smirked at me and we went outside into the backyard.

The backyard was probably the most decorated backyard I had ever seen. There were two large trees there, some of the branches reaching over into my own backyard. Lights hung from those branches, casting a glow on the whole area. Lawn chairs circled a small fire pit, already lit, small flames crackling. Duncan was standing over by a barbecue, and I could see hunks of meat cooking. June waved us closer and Joe walked over to Duncan, shaking the man's hand and looking down on the food. June hugged me tightly the moment I came within touching distance.

"Your backyard is amazing," I said. June straightened at the compliment.

"Thank you so much!" June replied. "We just finished it right after the war ended." I found myself stiffening slightly at the mention of the war, but I didn't think June noticed. The smell of cooking meat and the sound of the fire gave me unpleasant thoughts from our march across Europe. I forced those thoughts to the back of my mind.

One look at Joe told me that he was thinking the same thing as me, though with him, it was more visible. Joe's body went rigid and he was talking to Duncan in a clipped tone. I glanced between June and Duncan and Joe, seeing my fiance look blink rapidly and get quieter.

The gate to the backyard opened and Bob Doyle from our other side walked in. He was carrying a case of beer with him and June excused herself from me to help him. I quickly moved over to Joe and Duncan.

"Excuse me, but may I borrow him for a minute?" I asked Duncan. Before he could answer, I put one hand on Joe's and pulled him inside the house. We stopped in the kitchen, where Joe's breathing had gotten pretty heavily. One look at him and I diagnosed him with having a panic attack. "Joe?" I said calmly, putting a hand on the side of his face and rubbing my thumb on his cheek gently. Joe looked down at me, his breathing slowing down but his eyes keeping that frightful glint.

"I...I," Joe started, not able to get it out. I made a shushing noise. Joe brought his down and rested it on my shoulder. I wrapped my arms around him and rubbed his back as comfortably as I possibly could. Joe's breathing was starting to get more under control and he wrapped his arms around me. There was a slight sound and out of the corner of my eye I saw June turning back outside.

I had to hand it to June; she knew how to butt out of issues that weren't her's to snoop on.

The rest of the night went by pretty uneventful. Joe recovered from his panic attack but I noticed that he held his breath when he passed by the grill. While we sat by the fire, I kept one hand on him at all times, making sure that he knew I was there.

"So, how did you meet?" Bob asked as we ate. His brown eyes looked honestly interested. Joe and I exchanged one look.

"We met during training," Joe said before taking a large gulp of beer. Bob's eyes lit up and he leaned forward a bit, patiently waiting for us to continue. Joe finished his beer. "We were both in Easy Company for the Army."

"Really?" Duncan asked, glancing over at me with raised eyebrows. I moved my hair and showed him my scarred ear with a shrug. "Where'd that happen?" He asked without thinking. June swatted her husband's arm.

"A town called Carentan." I answered. I didn't elaborate and they didn't ask for any further explanation. Mainly they wanted to know how Joe and I got to know each other and what it was like in the Army. Bob asked a lot of military questions, wanting to know the difference between the Army and the Marines.

"Why didn't you get hitched over there?" Duncan asked, swallowing a mouthful of barbecue.

"We weren't allowed to do anything 'physical'," I explained. "There were a lot of variables when it came to me having any kind of romantic relationships. I could've gotten pregnant or the man involved could've gotten distracted and focused on me instead of the mission at hand. It wasn't until after the war was over that we actually got together."

Bob got an odd look in his eyes and his easy smile was gone. "That's rough. If I wasn't able to be with my girl-I don't know what I'd do."

"Your girl?" Joe echoed, raising an eyebrow at Bob.

Bob nodded and got a faraway look in his eyes. "I got married while overseas. She should be here soon; in January they're supposed to start bringing war brides back to their husbands. Hopefully my Hana can get on the first ship here." Bob smiled softly to himself, a look of longing on his face. I found myself looking at Joe, thinking how lucky we were that we hadn't been separated at all.

After June and Duncan's welcome party, I went to bed and fell asleep almost instantly. I wasn't sure for how long I was asleep before I had another nightmare.

My nightmares were consistent in their content. I'd either see memories of Bastogne, Carentan, Operation Market Garden, or the concentration camp in Landsberg. Sometimes I'd see the men from the Landsberg in their camp, with Joe among them. I sometimes saw Nazis, the shaved women from Eindhoven, and starving Jewish men all within one night.

The worst one was the one where I'd see the men we had lost during the war.

I'd see all of their faces; men who died underneath my hands as I tried to save them or the men who died when I wasn't even present. They appeared to me, bloodied and with cold and unforgiving eyes.

That night, I ended up having a nightmare where Skip approached me in Bastogne, covered in blood and screaming at me for not being able to help him. When I woke up, Joe was practically on top of me, shaking me roughly just so I would wake up. I felt tears on my face and I couldn't stop shaking. I couldn't go back to sleep after that, so I sat up in bed while Joe slowly managed to get some more sleep. He fell back to sleep after a few hours, holding onto my hand as tightly as he possibly could.


	5. 5: December

Time had flown by; Joe and I had been living in San Francisco for over a month. Already our lives had gotten a pattern. Joe and I both went to work during the day, occasionally we'd both work later shifts. We'd take long walks all around San Francisco, trying to take in as much as possible. After dinner we would sit beside the static-filled radio and listen to the stories and news that played. We had decided on our wedding to be in May, when it would start to get warmer.

June loved the idea of the wedding being in May, and she quickly asked if I needed help with anything at all. I didn't have to think about it much before agreeing to letting her help. She instantly clapped her hands giddily and started talking my ear off about planning it. I imagined Mary acting the exact same way and felt a new friendship begin to form with the older woman.

Joe and I spent a lot of time with the Calverts and Bob Doyle. Our neighbors in the white house were supportive and kind when it came to dealing with three veterans, one of them being injured badly on the frontlines. Duncan and June never pried, but they seemed to have the basic idea what happened to the three of us over on our sides of the war. One night in the Calverts' backyard, June asked Bob if he knew exactly when his wife would be coming across the Pacific.

Bob hesitated before shrugging. "I honestly have no idea. With some luck she'd be put on one of the first ships. She might be, because I married her before I got injured."

I had noticed that Bob never spoke about his time in the Marines. He told us that he lost his fingers on an island named Peleliu early on in the fight, but he never spoke of the camaraderie of the men in his company, or even of the men there with him. Meanwhile, thoughts of Easy crept into my mind every day. I had already sent dozens of letters to Malarkey, Guarnere, and Toye. Luz and Perconte had just started writing everyone. But Bob never spoke of his men, or even the details of his own wife.

That night while we laid in bed, I brought up my thoughts to Joe. He listened silently until I was finished. "Maybe he didn't have the bond with them that Easy had."

"Maybe," I mumbled, chewing on my lip and thinking hard about it. It was hard to imagine a company not being close to one another as Easy had been. I guess I had just assumed that everyone in the military had a tight bond with their fellow soldier.

That first December, Joe and I decided to spend our first holiday season with each other, just to get the hang of our different religions. This time when Joe explained Hanukkah, he took the time to explain everything as much as he could. "So," I started. "Each night we light another candle and recite the prayers?"

" _I_ will recite them," Joe said, pulling a dreidel out of the box his mother had sent us and tossed it to me. "It might be considered 'inappropriate' for you to say them." He moved his fingers as quotations on the word "inappropriate". I snorted and Joe smirked at me.

"Well, I am Catholic," I responded, turning the wooden top around in my hands and looking down on the Hebrew letters. "That, and I don't think I'd be able to even pronounce the prayers."

"That reminds me," Joe said. "You need to learn German."

I rolled my eyes at him. "So there's no getting out of that one is there?" Joe shook his head, his black hair swinging around with his head. His hair was starting to grow out, I noted.

When Hanukkah started, Joe was patient with my participation. It was my first time observing the holiday, something he kept in mind as I asked hundreds of questions. He lit the candles on the menorah, explaining to me the importance of the action. I nodded along with him, trying to remember everything he told me. For the eight days, we ate the proper food for the holiday. I learned how to make potato pancakes, or potato latkes as Joe called them. I might have burned them a bit, but if I did, Joe knew better than to point it out. He taught me how to play with the dreidel, something I was terrible at and that he kept winning at. He also tossed me a small coin called a gelt, something that was apart of the holiday apparently.

The next week after Hanukkah ended was Christmas. This time it was Joe's turn to learn about a different holiday and culture. Almost as soon as Hanukkah ended, Joe wanted to know about Christmas.

I gave Joe the history of Christmas just as he had done for me with Hanukkah. "How'd a virgin get pregnant again?" Joe asked for the third time. He found the idea amusing, and seeing him trying to understand my holiday kept me entertained.

"God got her pregnant," I replied, putting on a deadpan expression. Joe laughed at my expression and swiped a dinner roll from the plate of bread I had set out. Because we didn't have children, I didn't find the need to go get a tree. Joe and I substituted with a small tree with plastic branches. Tiny lights shone from its branches.

Even though Joe didn't celebrate Christmas, that didn't stop me from getting him a present. One thing Joe had been recently wanting was a new radio, seeing as our current one was often static filled. On some nights after dinner, Joe liked to take his seat beside the radio and listen to whatever story or news was on at the hour. And every time static filled the room, Joe would frown deeply and try to fix it and mumble curse words to himself.

I managed to find a good radio for Joe. It had been used once before but after trying it out for myself, I determined that it was good. Using my first paycheck from my secretary job at the hospital, I bought the new radio and had it wrapped before taking it back home.

On Christmas day, Joe woke me up by shaking me hard. I looked at him and then at the clock on the wall. It was six in the morning!

"Ain't this what kids do on Christmas?" Joe asked, blinking as innocently at possible. Joe was never innocent, so this was a funny look on him. I laughed at him and buried my face in the pillow. Joe responded by getting out of bed and scooping me up into his arms.

"Oh God!" I shouted, surprised by being up in the air. Joe laughed loudly at me and started to carry me out of the room. He finally sat me down on the sofa in the living room. My eye caught a wrapped box underneath our tiny tree and I looked up at Joe with a raised eyebrow. "What is that?"

"So you know how letters take forever to get anywhere?" Joe answered my question with a question of his own. I widened my eyes at him. He side stepped and gestured for me to unwrap the gift, looking smug and triumphant to have taken me off guard. I got off the sofa and went to the present, opening it to find a rotary phone inside.

"Joseph Liebgott!" I exclaimed, looking back at him with wide eyes. Joe straightened, obviously proud of himself. I smirked at him before going to the broom closet, where his present was hidden. When I carried the box out, Joe's triumphant look went away and was replaced by one of shock. I laughed at his facial expression and he tore open his present and his face went slack at the sight of the new radio.

He gave me a look. "Diana McCall," He said, mimicking me. An hour later, we had the new radio set up where the former one had been and I had just finished getting our phone set up. Our first Christmas together had been small, but it was perfect for just the pair of us.


	6. 6: War Brides

In January of nineteen-forty-six, ships started to fill the San Francisco harbor, packed with soldiers returning from the Pacific and war brides. Joe and I always walked around our neighborhood and the harbor on Fridays and Saturdays, so we'd always see whoever was coming home, or who was joining our country. There was a schedule in the harbor's offices, available to any civilian who wanted to know who was arriving. But, honestly, you could tell just by the crowd.

When soldiers were coming home, the crowd was overwhelming and overjoyed to see them back. Young girls would try and plant a kiss on the cheeks of the Marines, hoping to meet someone who had fought for their country. The pride of the crowds was obvious; everyone loving the men who came back home.

The crowds that gathered for the war brides, however, was quite the opposite.

Whenever the women moving to the United States to be with their American husbands, there was always a giant crowd of mostly women holding up signs and shouting at the ladies who got off of the ships. I got to read a few of the signs, and they all boiled down to, _Go Back Home Whores._

Most of the women coming here were Australian, there were a few Filipino, and even fewer Japanese. The Japanese women got the worst treatment from the crowds, from having things thrown at them to men and women alike screaming at them to go back to their "monkey people".

"This is horrible," I said to Joe one day as we watched a group of Australian women hurrying through the parted crowd, trying to get to the building where the Red Cross was set up. Joe glanced down at me before back to the women.

"D'you think Hana Doyle is somewhere in there?" Joe asked. I shook my head, not knowing if Bob's foreign wife was on this particular ship.

As the days went by, Bob started to get more antsy. He was worried about Hana not getting here soon and what that could mean. We tried to assure him that Hana was fine, but Bob just looked at us with an odd expression and didn't say anything.

One day in late January, I had the day off. Joe was at work, and to keep myself from getting bored, I cleaned up the house a bit. I started with the outside, seeing as our porch had been neglected. I grabbed a broom from the closet and started sweeping the length of the porch, dumping the damp leaves to the side of the house. I looked down at the garden, still overgrown with weeds. I sighed at it and thought that we could plant some vegetables or flowers. We'd either have fresh vegetables all the time or a nice sight to see when we looked out of the front window.

A taxi pulled up on the curb right in front of Bob's blue house. I stopped sweeping the porch and looked up at it just in time to see a short girl step out. I couldn't help but stare at her: she was wearing an old floral scarf around her head that covered her hair and most of her face, she had a beige overcoat that was buttoned up. Her simple black shoes looked worn out.

Sally McCall had taught me how to inspect another woman's clothing without even meaning to.

The girl leaned into the window and paid the driver. Her suitcase was already on the curb-it was very small and didn't look like it was carrying a lot. I kept sweeping, trying not to be obvious. When the cab drove away and the woman turned to the Bob's blue house, I got my first look at her face.

When Bob had said that he married while overseas, Joe and I had both imagined an Australian girl. But the woman looking at Bob's house with scared eyes was Japanese.

Hana Doyle finally noticed me watching her and she turned away, her colored skin turning faint red. When she looked up again, I offered her a smile and a firm nod. She looked at me for a brief moment before returning the nod and looking back down to her feet. To give her more privacy while she mustered up the courage to knock on Bob's door, I walked back up my stairs and set the broom against the wall before going back inside.

The first person I wanted to tell was Joe, but he was at work and wouldn't be back until five. I looked at the clock on the living room wall; it was only ten. I frowned slightly to myself, wasn't Bob at his work until six...?

There was a faint knock on the door and I stared. I hesitated slightly before answering, revealing Bob's Japanese wife standing there.

"Scuse me," She said softly. "Is Bobby at work?" Her English was surprisingly good, I found myself thinking. Her voice was soft and quiet, as if she was almost afraid to raise her voice at all. I couldn't help but wonder if that was a cultural thing, or if it was just how she was.

I shook myself out of my thoughts and smiled as warmly as I could at her. "Yeah, Bob is usually at work until six o'clock." Her eyes widened slightly and she suddenly got the look of being lost. I stepped aside. "You can wait for him with me, if you want. I don't mind." She stared at me with nervousness before stepping slowly inside. Her thin suitcase was being gripped tightly in her hands.

I didn't blame her for being petrified as she sat down slowly in my living room. Since she was Japanese, I was positive that the crowds at the harbor were especially vicious to her. I had seen how cruel the mob had been to Australian women. The face that matched our enemy was sure to gather more cruelty than the white faces.

While I was in the kitchen, I started a pot of coffee. I poked my head into the living room. "Would you like some coffee?" I asked. Hana flinched at the sound of my loud, military voice and gave me a small nod. I went back inside the kitchen and found some leftovers from last night's dinner. Joe and I had had baked salmon, so I put some of that on a plate and looked back to Hana. "Did you eat anything on the boat?"

"No, miss." Hana said softly. The coffee was finished and poured us both mugs before bringing out the drinks and fish. I sat it down on the table in front of Hana. She blinked at it and then at me. "You are kind." She said. She tentatively picked up the plate and ate as politely as she could. I sipped my black coffee and tried to make her as comfortable as possible.

I remembered how Bob never mentioned his company, how they had been fighting the Japanese. He had said that he married Hana before he lost his two fingers. I wondered if his company had distanced themselves from him _because_ of his marriage to Hana. I tried to imagine what would happen if someone from Easy had married a German girl while we were shooting at Krauts. I liked to think that Easy would be supportive, but at the same time I could imagine the frustration and "betrayal" that Easy could feel if one of our own had married the enemy. I made the conclusion that maybe something happened before Bob married Hana; there had to be something else there.

"My name is Diana McCall," I introduced myself, realizing that I hadn't said my name yet. She looked up from the food and gave me a fraction of a smile.

"I am Hana Doyle," She said. I heard the slight change in her voice when she said her last name-Bob's last name. I smiled at that, seeing that Hana loved Bob the same way he loved her.

I got to know Hana a little bit while she waited for Bob to come home. She was naturally quiet, and as I continued my straightening of the house, she kept offering to help. I shrugged her off every time, telling her that she must be tired from traveling across the Pacific.

"It was tiring," Hana said with a nod. "Very crowded; not a lot of food. All food and best supplies given to Aussies."

I blinked at that, Hana confirming my suspicions that, although people weren't necessarily happy with the foreigners coming into America, Australians were still more desirable than Japanese. I sighed, "Well, doesn't matter now. You're with Bob now and if I know him, he'll make sure nothing bad happens to you." Hana smiled softly at the thought of that and she looked down to her gloved hands.

"Thank you very much, Diana." Hana replied. She said my name slowly, using every syllable there. I smiled warmly at her and sipped at my coffee.


	7. 7: Understanding

Hana joined me in the kitchen while I wiped down the counter tops. She sipped her coffee, using lots of sugar to sweeten it. "Are you married?" Hana asked after swallowing a mouthful of the hot beverage.

"Engaged," I corrected. "Joe and I are gonna get married in May."

Hana narrowed her eyes, as if counting the months up in her head. "That sounds soon. My marriage to Bobby was small, and fast."

"Fast?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"The reverend wanted it over with." Hana said. "We had it at night when Bob was off duty-for the weekend, I believe." I blinked, not knowing entirely what to say to that. Technically, Bob and Hana didn't do anything wrong by getting married while he was over there. Other men did it. But once again, it went back to Hana being Japanese.

"How old are you, Hana?" I asked, curious.

Hana blinked before saying, "I am nineteen years old."

The same age I was when I volunteered for the paratroopers. I remembered being nineteen years old and approaching that booth in front of the only Catholic church in Wetumpka. I had worn a yellow dress and I imagined that I looked like the least qualified person to go off to war with the men. But the man in charge of that took a chance on me and sent me through. And here I was, four years later.

"That's pretty young," I said. "That's how old I was when I joined the Army."

Hana stared at me, narrowing her black eyes at me. "You fight with the boys?"

I nodded and let out a huff of amusement. "Yeah, it's a long story. But I was over in Europe with my boys; we fought Germans instead of Japanese." Hana's eyes looked down and her colored skin turned a faint red.

"We were shocked too, you know." Hana said quietly. I stopped cleaning and looked at her. Hana kept her eyes downcast. "My family did not know about the attack until America said we were at war. Before that, many of our soldiers were in China."

"I didn't know that," I said truthfully. "It must've been surprising for you too." Hana didn't reply, just started picking at her gloves. I shifted on my feet. Never in my imagination would I picture a Japanese girl sitting in my kitchen. I changed the subject. "C'mon, Hana. You should meet June."

"Who?" Hana asked, looking back up at me.

We walked next door to June's house. My other neighbor was a housewife, so she was always home. I rang the doorbell once before June answered, wearing a flowery apron and her platinum blond hair pinned and wrapped with a bandanna like Rosie the Riveter's. June's eyes looked over me and Hana briefly before inviting the pair of us in.

"June, this is Hana Doyle; Hana this is June Calvert." I introduced them. June's eyes got really wide and she squealed briefly before bouncing on the balls of her feet. Hana stared at June with wide eyes before cracking into a smile. June took Hana's hand and shook it with excitement.

"Oh my goodness! It is so _nice_ to finally meet you!" June said in a high-pitched voice. "Bob talks about you all of the time!"

"He does?" Hana asked, her skin darkening with a blush. I smiled between Hana and June before taking a seat on the sofa in the living room. June quickly escorted Hana into the living room and started firing questions at the poor girl.

"How did you and Bob meet? Did you both fall in love right away, or did it take time?"

"Slow down the questions, June!" I exclaimed with a laugh. June rolled her eyes at me, causing Hana to giggle slightly, as if she was afraid of being too loud. June smiled broadly at Hana and bounced on her feet some more.

"I'm just so excited to meet you!" June said. Hana was fully smiling now. She looked happier than she had been since she got here, for which I was happy. I suddenly couldn't wait for Bob to get home so that he and Hana could be together again.

Hana and I stayed at June's for the rest of the day, talking and snacking on whatever food June brought out. After five, June's phone rang and it was Joe, asking her if she knew where I was. Three minutes later, Joe knocked on June's door. I answered it this time, standing out on the front porch for a minute before letting him in. I gave him a heads up about Hana's race. Joe blinked when I told him and we entered the living room together.

Joe stared at Hana for a long moment, taking her in. Hana, recognizing a military personnel when she saw one, seemed to shrink underneath his hazel eyes. June swooped in and started asking about Hana's favorite foods while Joe sat down.

"When'd you get in town, Hana?" Joe asked. Hana looked at him briefly and he gave her a small smirk, making an attempt to get her comfortable.

"Just this morning," Hana replied quietly. "Your Diana is very kind." Joe looked away from Hana to me and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly. I sat down beside him and rested my head on his shoulder.

An hour later, Bob arrived. June and I decided that it was important that Bob knew right away that his wife was home, so we waited with Hana on Bob's front porch. Joe had gone back inside our own house, going off to see what we had for dinner. Usually I cooked dinner, occasionally with Joe helping. But he had said he wanted to do something on his own. So June, Hana, and I sat on Bob's front porch, waiting for him to take the trolley home.

Finally, around six thirty, I heard the trolley's bells ringing from the neighborhood entrance. June heard it too and smiled happily, waiting impatiently for Bob. It took about five minutes for Bob to walk up the sidewalk to the three houses. And it took him even less time to notice the three women sitting outside. Almost automatically, Bob's eyes zoomed in on Hana.

Bob dropped the shoulder bag he was carrying and started running.

Hana stepped off of the porch but couldn't seem to go any further. She waited for Bob and he crashed into her, pulling her tightly into his arms and lifting her feet off of the ground. Hana hugged him too, after a slight pause. The two of them clung together for a long time. June was clutching one of my hands and had a slight glisten in her eyes.

We finally left the married couple alone and they went inside. Hana was getting to see her new home for the first time. June and I strolled slowly back to our houses and stopped outside of mine.

"I gotta hand it to you, June," I said. "You're probably the most accepting person I've ever known."

June blinked at me and smiled; not the big and white one like I was used to, a small and subtle one that seemed uncharacteristically of her. "I grew up in San Francisco all of my life. There's always been people of other races, religions, almost anything different. My mommy died during the Depression and my daddy didn't stick around long after that. Through the years, I had to live off a Chinese family, a homosexual, a man who had fought in the first world war and had been blinded by mustard gas. You learn not to judge people when you rely on them for so much."

"I never would've guessed," I mumbled.

"What about you?" June asked. I frowned at her, confused by the question. "Most of anyone would turn away a Japanese or German face, especially after what you've gone through. Why didn't you?"

I didn't answer for a moment, gaining my thoughts. "I think it _was_ the war that changed me. It hardened me, like war is supposed to do. But I think it also made me understand people better. It took me a long time during the war to realize that the Krauts were doing their jobs, just like we were." I paused. "But if a Kraut who fought directly underneath Hitler, who wore a Swastika on their sleeve, if they ever showed up to my doorstep needing help, I'd shut the door in their face."

June listened attentively. She was very good at that. "Makes me wonder about how those two ever got together." She said with a glance back at the Doyle residence. I smirked and shrugged.

"Perhaps that's a story for another day." I said. June nodded at that and continued to her house while I climbed the steps of my own. I entered the house and was instantly greeted by the warmth. I walked into the kitchen, finding Joe leaning against the counters and staring down at a cookbook (another item from one of his mother's many boxes). I watched him frown at it for a while, his dog-tags dangling in the empty air. "What're you plannin'?" I asked. Joe looked up at me and smirked.

"Ma sent me this and I can't figure it out." Joe said. I looked around him, seeing that the book was handwritten in German and was organized differently from the two other cookbooks I owned. The instructions looked to be all bunched together in untidy writing.

"Well, if _you_ can't figure it out, we're gonna end up starvin'," I said, resting my chin on his shoulder. Joe looked down at me and pressed his forehead shortly against mine. I got up on my tip toes and kissed him, and he didn't waste any time before kissing me back, hard.

We ended up not having dinner that night.


	8. 8: The Upcoming Day

Winter melted away into spring, and the wedding day was fast approaching. The date was for May twentieth, a Saturday. And before I knew it, it was the Sunday before the actual day. Months ago, I had sent out invitations, and all of Easy checked that they were coming; my sisters, brother-in-law, nephew and niece; Joe's parents and siblings with their families; and our neighbors.

All week, our guests arrived, the Liebgott family being the first. I finally met my soon-to-be in-laws, and (praise Jesus Christ) they were accepting to me. I couldn't imagine the feelings my mother-in-law was feeling, considering how I wasn't Jewish and how I definitely wasn't going to be the housewife-the occupation that had become popular again.

Mary and Elizabeth arrived with Phillip, Rodger, and my newborn niece. Mary had had her just seven months ago, and her daughter looked just like her father. Her name was Diana Elizabeth Holbrook, after her two aunts. "We call her Anna," Phillip told me as I held her for the first time. "To avoid any confusion." I was touched by the thought of anyone, let alone my older sister, naming their child after me.

But out of the family guests that arrived, Joe and I were both waiting for all of Easy to be back together. Towards the middle of the week, they started coming. Joe and I spent so much time at the train station with the amount of men we were greeting. On that first train on Thursday morning, five men arrived-among them being Babe Heffron, Welsh and his wife Kitty, Speirs (surprising us with being the first one off the train), Patrick O'Keefe, and Carwood Lipton. I hugged them all, thankful to be with their familiar faces once more.

That afternoon, another wave of men joined us in the hotel common area we Easy Company veterans were occupying. Winters led them in, followed by Nixon, Perconte, Webster, Martin, Roe, Bull, and Guarnere. I actually let out a cry of joy with seeing three of my best friends together again and I grabbed each of them into one giant embrace. Guarnere squeezed me so tightly I could barely breathe. He showed me the prosthetic he was wearing.

"Damned thing itches like hell," Guarnere said, reaching down to scratch at it as we spoke. "It's not gonna last, Di." He introduced me to a beautiful, dark haired woman as Frannie. "I eloped last year; thought you should know." Guarnere looked mighty pleased with himself and Frannie Guarnere shook my hand and, for the most part, watched her husband interact with his men.

Roe introduced me to his secret English wife; the girl from the Red Cross club all those years ago. Vera Roe had a bump to her belly, showing that a baby was soon on the way. I made a mental note to introduce Vera to Hana, wondering if they could talk about the cultural differences of their new homes to Japan and England.

Friday morning brought us Toye, Luz, Talbert, Buck, Tipper, and Hanson. Like Guarnere, Toye was also wearing a prosthetic, and he was also experiencing intense itching. He also promised that it probably wasn't going to be a permanent thing. Luz hugged me tightly and picked my feet off the ground, shouting out how happy he was to see me again. More men poured into San Francisco during that Friday, but it was Don Malarkey who was the last one to arrive.

The hotel common area was being dominated by Easy Company. Everyone was mingling and joking, singing old songs and retelling old stories such as, _The Night of the Bayonet._ Malarkey walked into the room quietly, looking around at everyone for a minute, as if he was so taken aback by the sudden appearance of all of his old friends.

Buck was the one who saw Malarkey first and he screamed out his buddy's name. I turned around from where I was sitting with Joe and Guarnere and locked eyes with my redheaded best friend. Joe nudged me, not too roughly, and I quickly stood up and hurried to Malarkey. I hugged my best friend, not realizing how much I had missed him until I held him in my arms.

"Jesus Christ, I missed you, Malarkey." I said, finally letting him go. Malarkey grinned an repeated the phrase to me. He had grown out some stubble on his face, the red hairs almost see through in the light. But his eyes still crinkled at the corners whenever he smiled and he still laughed loudly at anything remotely funny.

On Friday night, I left my fellow veterans and they all loudly shouted a farewell. I left the hotel and took a trolley back to the neighborhood to be with Mary, Elizabeth, June, and Hana. We gathered in June's living room where she had made fruit cocktails. I drank the sweet liquor. It didn't burn the same way whiskey or beer did, but the sweet taste was a welcome one, occasional bits of fruit entering my mouth.

Hana sniffed her drink cautiously. "It ain't gonna bite you," Mary said, the alcohol dragging her thick Southern drawl out. Elizabeth, not even twenty, was given a virgin cocktail. Hana was only given an alcoholic one because she was already married and that made her an adult in June's eyes. We sent that night drinking and both Mary and June talking about their own married lives.

Mary had never spoken to me in detail about her wedding-or even her marriage. She married someone she had known for only two months. Considering that her marriage was sort of arranged by our mother and Phillip's parents, Mary lucked out. Bob and Hana had lucked out, finding each other the way they did. I still had no idea how Duncan and June met, but they were perfectly happy together.

I liked to think that Joe and I lucked out. We had met underneath stressful circumstances, and Lord knew it had been a long road for the pair of us to even admit that we had feelings stronger than friendship. And even _then,_ we had to wait until the war was over before we could be together.

It took a few hours for me to go to sleep. Mary, properly drunk for the first time I knew of, kept reminding me how my life was going to change after tomorrow. I wasn't sure if she was trying to make me feel better or even more nervous, because it was definitely having the latter effect on me. That night, for the first time in a long time, I didn't have a single nightmare.


	9. 9: Tear In My Heart

I almost didn't recognize myself, wearing a white dress with a thin veil that covered my auburn hair. Mary and Elizabeth both stood behind me, the pair of them looking proud. "You look beautiful, Diana." Elizabeth said, bending down to straighten my long dress. I had made sure not to get a puffy dress; I had wanted one that wasn't like a ballgown, but also wasn't skin tight. June had helped finding it, and it was a perfect fit.

There was a faint knock on the door. Elizabeth rushed forward and opened it a crack, to see who it was. Then she opened it all the way and Phillip entered with baby Anna in one arm. The seven-month old's chestnut hair was pulled up into pigtails and I thought she looked like her dad.

"Where's Rodger?" Mary asked the moment she saw that her son wasn't with Phillip and Anna. Phillip smirked and glanced over his shoulder to the closed door.

"Diana's brothers from Easy were talking to him last I saw him. When I left, one guy had Rodger up sitting on his shoulder."

Mary looked like that was the last place she wanted her son to be sitting. I stepped forward and nudged her. "Don't worry about Rodger. Those men wouldn't harm a hair on his head." I looked back to Phillip. "Who had him, d'you know?"

Phillip frowned. "I believe his name was George...can't remember his last name."

"Was he shorter than the others? Brown eyes, brown hair, Portuguese?"

"Yeah, that was him."

I turned back to Mary. "That's Luz. Forget what I said about not being worried-he'll be trying to convince Rodger to jump outta planes." I laughed to let her know I was kidding, but Mary still looked worried. Phillip smiled at his wife before turning to me and telling me that they were all ready. All the nerves I had been sitting on suddenly rose to the surface and I shifted my feet.

Phillip took Anna and Elizabeth back out to the chapel. I looked over at Mary, "Were you this scared?" I asked her quietly.

Mary gave me a funny look. "You jumped out of planes and into war. I'd think you could handle getting married." I didn't reply and Mary pushed a lock of hair back behind my good ear. "Yes, I was so nervous. Mother kept telling me not to trip in my heels. It didn't help that she kept reminding me that the whole town was there. I was getting married to someone I had only known for a month; you're getting married to someone you've known for years and have fought beside. On top of that you've got an army of men out there who love you; I think you're better off than I was."

This was the first time Mary had really spoken about her wedding day. I had been a bridesmaid, but my sister had refused to be anything other than perfect. I gave her a smile and wrapped her into a hug. Mary hugged me back, kissing my cheek.

Another knock came to the door and before Mary could answer it, Mrs. Liebgott entered. Her black hair, speckled with gray, was pulled back into a high bun. Mary smiled at her and left the room, leaving me and my new mother-in-law alone.

"Are you wearing a veil?" She asked, her voice heavily accented with the sound of Austria. I thought back to Easy's time in Austria and smiled to myself, remembering the locals there.

"I've got one," I said, reaching behind myself to rub the thin material with my fingertips. Mrs. Liebgott moved forward and touched the material herself, nodding slightly to herself.

"I do not think it is necessary for you to cover your face," Mrs. Liebgott said. "You should have some aspects of your own religion in the ceremony."

During the past few months, it had been hell trying to find a rabbi and a priest who would cooperate together for a Jewish and Catholic ceremony. Joe and I had both come up unsuccessful, so we had come to the decision to have a mostly Jewish ceremony, but with some of my Catholic roots there. Joe had found a rabbi who knew I was Catholic, but was kind enough to perform the marriage anyway.

Joe was the oldest of six kids, his parents were a very religious couple. This was the family I was marrying into. Last night, June had told me that when you marry someone, you're also marrying that family. I had taken that phrase to heart and wanted to try and form a relationship with my mother-in-law, at least.

Mrs. Liebgott straightened the veil going down the back of my head. "May I ask you a question, Diana?" I nodded, giving her permission. "Why is your mother not here?"

I chewed on the inside of my mouth slightly before saying, "She and I sort of had a falling out." Mrs. Liebgott didn't say anything, prompting me to continue, "She didn't agree with me joining the Army, she didn't like how I left home without permission. When she found out from my sister, Mary, that I was marrying Joe, she got mad at me because of that."

Mary had called telling me about how Sally McCall had gone red in the face, bottling up her obvious fury. She had always wanted her three daughters to marry Catholic, or Baptist. A Jew, no matter how we met or how well we got along or how much we loved each other, was out of question for the likes of Sally McCall.

Mrs. Liebgott frowned at this information, flaring up the moment I said my mother disapproved of her son. She shook her head, "Your mother knows nothing then. I saw how my Joseph looks at you-it's the exact same way my father looked at my mother, and how my husband looks at me. I do not care how you crossed paths with Joseph; I am just happy that you both found each other."

I was touched by her small speech. Mrs. Liebgott faced me directly, her hazel eyes the exact same shade and shape of Joe's. "You may call me a mother now. We are family now."

A sting started up in my eyes and I blinked it away. "Thank you, Mrs. Liebgott." She raised an eyebrow at me and I smiled. "Mom," I corrected myself. She gave me a thin smile back and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear, her touch surprisingly gentle.

A few minutes later, I was walking down the aisle, Mrs. Liebgott right beside me. I saw that my company had spread out all over the chapel, to fill up the empty seats on the bride's side. Malarkey grinned broadly at me and he looked extremely proud. Luz and Perconte both winked at me and they looked so pleased to be there. Winters, Nixon, Lipton, Speirs, and Welsh were all side by side, and they all nodded at me as I passed. Guarnere, Frannie, and Toye stood near the front, next to Malarkey and right behind Elizabeth, Phillip, Rodger, and Anna. Duncan, June, Bob, and Hana were sitting side by side; both Duncan and Bob had their hands clamped around their wives's hands.

And then I finally looked ahead and saw Joe standing there, waiting for me. He smiled broadly at me, showing all of his teeth. This was the man who had crept through Normandy with me, who helped protect me and who had dragged me out of harm's way. At the same time, I had done the same for him. I had stitched him back together and had yanked him around after me. We had shared food and foxholes; we had saved each other too many times to count.

In that instant, all the nervousness I had been feeling, all of the doubts, evaporated in my chest and I hurried towards where Joe was standing.


	10. 10: Pieces

When Mrs. Liebgott and I met for the first time, she had gone over the basic functions of a Jewish wedding ceremony. From the walking around Joe to the ring exchange to Joe having to break the glass under his foot, Mrs. Liebgott went over as much as she could with me. I just hoped that I could remember what I was supposed to do and not mess up, considering that my new extended family were all Jewish.

I walked around Joe three times like I was supposed to. That part had been easy to remember and a simple task to do. When I took my spot beside Joe, the rabbi had us face each other so that Joe could put the ring on my finger and recite the declaration: "Behold, you are consecrated to me with this ring according to the law of Moses and Israel." He slipped the ring on my finger and I was handed his ring.

I cleared my throat quickly, praying to God that I didn't mess up this next part. _"Ani I'dodi ve dodi li."_ I said the phrase slowly, carefully. I felt like I might've mispronounced something there, but Joe winked at me and grinned at me as I put on his own ring. The saying was, according to Mrs. Liebgott, a quote from the Song of Songs. She had told me that it translated to "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine."

A glass of dark wine was poured and the rabbi held it in his hands. From what Joe and his mother had told me, Joe and I were both to drink from the cup when seven blessings were read by the rabbi performing the ceremony. The rabbi started the Seven Blessings, all in Hebrew. He only spoke a few lines before Joe started, in a voice low enough only for me to hear, translating every word for me.

"Blessed are you, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, Creator of the fruit and vine," Joe muttered to me. "Blessed are you, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has created everything for your glory. Blessed are you, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who creates man. Blessed are you, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, sovereign of the universe, who creates man in your image. May the barren one exult and be glad as her children are joyfully gathered to her in haste. Grant perfect joy to these loving companions, as you did your creations in the Garden of Eden. Blessed are you, Adonai our God, who grants the joy of groom and bride."

Joe took a breath, as the rabbi kept on going without taking a single pause. This action was enough to make me smirk and Joe smirked back at me in response before continuing with translating the final blessing. "Blessed are you, Adonai our God, sovereign of the universe, who created joy and gladness, groom and bride, mirth, song, delight and rejoicing, love and harmony and peace and companionship. Soon, Adonai our God, may there ever be heard in the cities of Judah and in the street of Jerusalem voices of joy and gladness, voices of groom and bride, the jubilant voices of those joined in marriage under the bridal canopy, the voices of young people feasting and singing. Blessed are you, Adonai our God, who causes the groom to rejoice with his bride."

He was out of breath when he finished, something that amused me to no end. The rabbi, having figured out what Joe was doing, had slowed down and waited for Joe to catch up with him. The rabbi smiled kindly at both of us and handed the glass of wine to Joe. He took a drink from the cup before passing it on to me, and I copied his action.

A glass was given to Joe, and he set it down on the ground beside our feet. I took a slight step back to avoid the bits of glass to hit me. Joe used his right foot to crush it, the glass making a loud popping sound.

Two different shouts went out at once. From those in Joe's family, the traditional cry of "Mazel tov!" was heard. But from Easy Company, Buck led the cry of "Currahee!" and every man from Easy, even the former commanding officers, shouted out the name of the mountain back in Georgia with pride ringing clearly in their voices.

* * *

Luz, drunk and drinking what had to be at least his eighth glass of beer, raised his glass with a shaky hand. "To Lieb and Di; it's 'bout fucking time." His words were met with laughter and several men drinking some more. I watched with amusement. I knew my limit when it came to whiskey, and I wanted to remember this night. Joe, on the other hand, was drinking as much as he wanted and his face was now bright red.

We were all sitting underneath a gazebo behind the church. Our blood relatives and neighbors had already left, so it was just Easy remaining. I had a feeling that the church staff weren't going to be happy with the fact that we were still at this gazebo at...eleven at night. Majority of the men were still drinking or had had their fill during the wedding reception.

Easy hadn't come empty handed; it looked to me that everyone brought a little something for me and Joe. Nixon had personally handed me a large bottle of Vat-69, a faint spark in his eye and I liked to think that he was remembering that night somewhere in Germany. Speirs had disappeared for ten minutes before returning with a silver dinner tray that was balancing a bunch of silverware, China plates and saucers, and a few wine glasses that looked like they were made of crystal.

"You got these in Germany, didn't you?" Joe asked, picking up a shiny soup spoon.

"Courtesies of Adolf Hitler himself," Speirs said, giving us the toothy grin that used to strike fear into the hearts of the men. I smiled at that thought and poured myself a glass of Vat-69, drinking from Hitler's own glass. Now the gifts should be back at the house, brought there by Phillip and Mary.

The atmosphere surrounding Easy Company was sleepy, relaxed. We were all glad to be back together, one could tell just by seeing the way we spoke to one another. Our voices ranged from calm and soft to loud and military-like again. Bull started recounting _The Night of the Bayonet_ again, and others would join in with him as he retold the now famous Easy story.

"Lieb and McCall were the first ones on the scene," Talbert said following the hundredth retelling. "I remember McCall patching me up almost as soon as it happened." This new information was met with whistles and men exclaiming that we were an item even back then. I smirked and took a drink from the water I had gotten. Joe clinked his glass against mine and drank his beer deeply.

Despite my name having legally changed from McCall to Liebgott, a lot of the men still called me by my maiden name. I figured it was because a lot of the men called each other by their last names (as I did) and it'd be confusing to have more than one Liebgott.

Easy stayed underneath that gazebo until the last church staff approached us and told us, as politely as they could, to leave. It was midnight, and we had been sitting out there since nine o'clock. Some of the men grumbled, Luz doing a spot on impression of the man who asked us to leave. Bull put Luz on his back and carried him off piggy-back style. Feeling tipsy, I threw one arm around Joe's neck and the other arm around Malarkey, using the pair of them to walk steadily.

The hotel that Easy were staying at was about a mile away. Winters, Welsh, and Nixon were at the head of our company, so naturally, we followed them. When my feet started to hurt, I only mentioned it once before Joe had me ride to the hotel on his back. I rested my chin on the top of his head, the scent of his shampoo filling my nostrils. We made it to the hotel and we ended up back inside the same common area we had been in before.

An hour and a half later, Winters approached me and Joe. "I'm afraid I have to call it a night, Mr. and Mrs. Liebgott." He said, making a point of saying our new titles. "I've got a train to catch tomorrow at noon." Joe and Winters shook hands and I hugged him. Winters hesitated for only a brief second before hugging me back.

"How come Di gets to hug the commanding officers?" Perconte asked from where he was slouched over in his chair. Winters said goodbye once more before heading back upstairs to his room. It wasn't long after he left that Welsh left to go find Kitty upstairs. Nixon was close behind them, and he made a point of saying goodbye to me and Joe. I didn't know when I was going to see them again, so I hugged both of them as tightly as I could.

The last trolleys made their rounds at three in the morning, I thought. At two o'clock, I whispered this fact to Joe and he nodded slowly, his eyes dragging over the entire company. He wanted to stay with the men for as long as possible. I felt the same way, not wanting to miss a single moment with Easy, considering that no one knew when we'd all be together again.

Some of the men had to catch trains the next day, in order to go back to work on Monday. So one by one, men like Buck, Speirs, Hanson, and Talbert said their goodbyes to us and went upstairs. At two thirty, Joe and I stood up and walked around to each man who remained, saying goodbye to the stubborn ones who wanted these last sleepy moments to last.

Luz and Perconte took either side of me and hugged me tightly. They both had alcohol on their breath. Toye squeezed me firmly and picked me up so that my feet dangled in the air for a few moments. He was still as strong as an angry bull. "I'm gonna try crutches next, Di." He told me. "This fucking fake leg is a nightmare."

Guarnere said something similar and he seemed to be competing with everyone to try and hug me the tightest. With him, I literally couldn't breathe while he tried to squeeze the life out of me. When he finally released me, I gasped and panted in what was probably a good imitation of Luz's over dramatic nature. Roe said goodbye in a much quieter manner. Vera was waiting for him upstairs and Roe didn't want to keep her waiting any longer. I hugged my fellow medic and let him go back to his English wife.

Malarkey hugged me last and said, "I'm most likely going to be meeting Faye Tanner in July." I blinked at him, thinking about Skip's dream girl. Malarkey rubbed his head. "You should come too. Faye would want to meet both of us. Hell, you and Joe could see New York properly." Malarkey smiled at me and I smiled right back at him.

"Let me know when you do decide to go visit her." I told him. "I definitely want to see her too." Malarkey promised he would and Joe and I left the hotel. We made a mad dash to the closest trolley to go back home. The handful of people on the trolley stared at us with wide and knowing eyes. One look at us told these strangers that we had just gotten married.

But their looks were the last thing on my mind. Joe kept making me laugh loudly by gently pinching my sides or muttering a joke. At some point, he tried to do an impression of Luz's face, causing me to throw my head back with laughter. The trolley dropped us off at the beginning of the neighborhood, so Joe and I walked up the hill to the familiar sight of our house. I had my arm linked with his and we were leaning on each other heavily.

We got to the porch steps before Joe stuck his arm out and stopped me. "Hold on, Di. This has gotta be done right." Joe said. I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant when Joe quickly picked me up bridal style and started up the stairs. I let out a loud laugh and my husband carried me inside our house.


	11. 11: Faye Tanner

After the wedding, our lives fell into a sort of pattern. We'd both go to work during the weekdays, come home to eat dinner, spend time with our friends or go walk around the neighborhood or the beach or the city. Every Saturday and Sunday we'd spend the whole day together. We would go out to the beach (something we both enjoyed with great fiber), or go to the cinema for a movie that was playing. We saw one movie called _The Postman Always Rings Twice_ and afterwards Joe ranted to me about if I ever decided to kill him like how Cora killed her own husband so she could run off with another man.

"I will haunt you if you ever decide to kill me," Joe said, pointing a finger at me and waving it around. "I will haunt you and you will never be able to bring another man into our home."

I caught his finger and held it. "Why the hell would I want to bring another man home? I got you and that's all I need." Joe laughed at that and kissed my forehead, and we continued down the street to our usual spot on the beach.

Life was, for the most part, peaceful. But there were still times where our PTSD hit us hard, giving us both nightmares or anxiety attacks. There was a riot in Alcatraz prison that lasted for a few days. The San Francisco harbor was put on a lock down, refusing any ship or boat of any kind. By the end of it, five people died, two of them guards while the other three were prisoners. Afterwards, Joe and I walked down to where we could see the prison.

"How many men are out there?" I asked Joe, not really expecting an answer. He shrugged, not really knowing either.

"News broadcast said that some eleven people got hurt," Joe said. "So, it's at least fourteen." I laughed at that, and Joe smirked.

I got a call from Malarkey some time in June, telling me that he was taking a train to New York to meet Faye Tanner in July. I also got a letter from Faye, confirming Malarkey meeting her and how she wanted to meet me as well. So Joe and I bought tickets for a train to take us to Tonawanda, New York. Over the phone, Malarkey confirmed that he did the same and that was that.

On July first, Joe and I left for the train station. The train powered through the Midwest in a few days, and soon we were back in New York, where we had originally separated from Easy Company. One night, as the train rumbled ahead, I couldn't get to sleep. Joe was asleep beside me, his legs sprawled out in front of him and he had his head leaning back against the seat.

Joe's face when he was asleep was truly relaxation. His eyelids would flutter every now and then, and his mouth would occasionally move as he whispered in his sleep. I watched him sleep, the rising sun just beginning to fade into our train compartment. Our curtains caught the light and kept the small area dark, for which I was grateful.

I remembered how I met Joe officially, approaching him with caution to ask if he could cut my hair. Now, about four years later, we were newlyweds and living in our house in San Francisco of all places. This man, once a stranger who had made me nervous, was now my husband. He was the man who I fell in love with while the world was tearing itself apart.

How the hell did I end up here?

What were the chances I'd ever meet someone like Joe? Someone I could love no matter what, someone who would love me back? And what did you do when that someone was born thousands of miles away? It all seemed impossible. How did Joe and I get lucky? We hadn't felt lucky when we first fell. I had been reprimanded and had to keep an eye out in case someone assumed anything.

And yet through all of that, we made it. We survived the war and were able to run away together. I smiled to myself, thinking that I must have someone up in heaven looking out for me. My dad? Possibly. I had to believe that my brothers who didn't make it out of Easy were keeping an eye out for me, for everyone. Whether someone up there was watching out for me, whether it was all apart of some sort of plan, or whether it was just sheer blind luck, I had found Joe.

At the end of the fifth day, we finally arrived in the Tonawanda train station. Joe and I got off the train and we were supposed to meet Malarkey there. Joe was scanning the crowd, looking for him milling about the dozens of faces surrounding us.

"Well, isn't it the Liebgott family?" Malarkey's voice rang from a ways away and he hurried forward until he reached us. He hugged me and shook Joe's hand, looking happy to see the pair of us. He had shaven his face again and must've splashed water on his face because he looked to be freshly showered. His freckles seemed more noticeable today. I pointed it out to him and he shrugged.

The three of us stayed at the same motel, but Joe decided to stay behind. "I think this is something you and Malark need to do." So that afternoon, Malarkey and I took a cab to the address Faye had given the pair of us. The cab stopped outside a bungalow, a white picket fence in the front yard with vines twisting around it. Faye Tanner had a big garden underneath her house's windows, filled with roses, daisies, and what looked like marigold.

"This would've been Skip's house," I whispered to myself, not really thinking. Malarkey gave me a sad look, but he didn't say anything. We got out of the cab and approached the house with caution. Faye should be expecting us, but that didn't stop me from feeling like I was intruding on someone's life as I rang the doorbell.

We stood there for a few seconds before the door opened, revealing Faye Tanner to us for the first time. I found myself staring into the face of a woman with soft brown hair and wide blue eyes. Her makeup looked like it had taken several long minutes to perfect and her floral dress looked pristine. She was everything Skip had described.

Faye broke into a wide smile when she looked us over and invited us into her home. Malarkey was walking stiffly, looking around. I got the feeling that he was still thinking about what I had said outside the cab. This would've been Skip's house with Faye. In a different life, Malarkey and I would still be visiting this house, but Skip would already be here and waiting for us. The circumstances would've been so much more happier.

The inside of Faye's house was just as pretty as the outside. Malarkey and I were strolling around her living room (Faye had gone in the kitchen for coffee) when I stopped short, staring at the fireplace mantle. On it were pictures of Skip, and tiny knick knacks. I got closer looking at them. One picture was of Skip and Faye at the beach, another was the picture Skip had taken when he had first become a paratrooper. Malarkey followed me and started looking at the pictures too, a sad look in his face.

"I've kept almost everything of his," Faye said from the doorway. Malarkey and I turned to face her. Faye looked sad too, looking past us to occasionally glance at the pictures of Skip. "A lot of his stuff went back to his folks, but his mom wanted me to have some part of him." She cut herself off, emotion rising to her face.

Malarkey huffed slightly, reaching into his pocket. "Good thing I brought this then." He pulled out something small, and I felt goosebumps cross my body when I recognized the broken crucifix Lipton had found in Skip and Penkala's foxhole. I remembered when that tiny crucifix was whole, when Skip was wrap the rosary beads around his fingers, either praying or just so that his hands had something to do. I had given it to Malarkey, after Lipton had given it to me. The small cross was still a bad memory of finding that foxhole, of losing two great friends.

Malarkey handed the broken crucifix to Faye, who took it carefully. Her eyes started to water as she took in the singed wood, the cracked and missing beads from the chain. I had a feeling she knew what this tiny cross had gone through to get here. "He'd want you to have it," Malarkey said softly, letting Faye have this moment. She closed her eyes and held the crucifix to her heart.

"I remember when I first saw this," Faye said quietly. "He was, uh, spinning it around. Showing off. He'd throw it into the air as high as he could and then he run after it, trying to catch it before it hit the ground. He was seventeen, so of course he was a little immature with it. But he never had it far from him; Skip always had it on hand whenever he wanted something to toss around."

I tried to picture Skip when he was seventeen, and the image was harder to imagine. In my mind, Skip would always be twenty-two, sitting with me and Malarkey in the snow with snowflakes falling into his hair. Or laying on his bed in Aldbourne with me on the next bed, smoking a cigarette and talking to me about Faye and Tonawanda and what it'd be like to go back home. Tears came to my eyes unwillingly and I wiped them away. Malarkey brushed his shoulder against mine.

Faye, Malarkey, and I sat around her living room. We drank coffee and talked about Skip, how we all met him and how that man had touched our lives. By the time Malarkey and I had to leave, both Faye and I had cried while Malarkey sat between us, patting our backs and looking just as sad as we felt. On the drive back to the motel, Malarkey and I were both quiet.

"She's just like Skip said," Malarkey said when we were almost at the motel.

"She really is," I agreed. When we got to the motel, we said goodnight and went to our rooms. Joe was sprawled on the bed, reading a paperback book. He folded the corner of the page down when I entered and he sat up straight.

"How'd it go?" Joe asked. I told him everything, from her fireplace mantle filled with pieces of Skip to when Malarkey gave her that broken crucifix. I laid down on the bed next to him, staring up at the ceiling. He watched me for a moment before laying down next to me. "You still glad you came all the way out here?"

I nodded without hesitating. "I needed to meet her, to see what might've happened with Skip." I paused. "I wish I could do that for every man who didn't make it." Joe put his hand on my thigh, resting it there. "It just got me thinking: what would've everyone been like if they got out." I glanced at Joe, his eyes clouded with memories.

"I've thought about that," Joe said. "But I think we would've ended up pretty much the same. You know?" I nodded along with him, trying to imagine what men like Skip, Penkala, Jackson, Hoobler, and all the others would have done with themselves when Easy finally got themselves out of Europe.


	12. 12: New Life

I didn't know exactly when Joe and I originally planned to start having children. Joe had told me that he wanted a lot of kids, something I was completely fine with. I was Catholic; we didn't believe in the idea of birth control. It was early November of nineteen-forty-six, I was almost twenty-four, when I started throwing up almost everything I ate. I was nauseated by any kind of movement-riding the trolley to work became a nightmare.

I had called off work, feeling too sick to get out of bed that morning. Joe had been worried the second he realized that I wasn't going to work because I felt ill. "You want me here with you?" Joe asked, walking over to me from the bathroom. He had a damp washcloth in his hands and he laid the warm cloth on my forehead. I smiled at him, touched by the overwhelming concern.

"I'll be fine, Joe." I said. "I'll call June; she'll want to help out as much as she can." Joe looked like he wanted to take care of me himself, but he nodded and called June without telling me what he was doing. Next thing I knew, June was over and fussing over me. Joe smirked at me triumphantly before leaving for work.

"Are you just nauseated?" June asked. She was walking beside me as we moved towards the living room. I gripped the stair's railing tightly.

"There's fatigue too," I said, feeling my stomach swoop. I clenched my teeth and stopped walking, trying to regain my composure. June stood beside me, just in case I needed her to physically help me down the stairs. "But mostly I just wanna throw up anything in my stomach right now." We made it downstairs and I laid down on the couch. June was looking at me with a curious look in her eye.

"I'll be right back." June said, rushing out of the front door as fast as her heels would allow. I watched her go, not sure what she was trying to get at. She came back six minutes later and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. "Your sister has children?" She asked.

I frowned at June. "Yes," I said slowly. "Rodger and Anna. I think you met them at the wedding." June nodded in agreement and there was a slight smile on her face.

"I think you should call her."

"Where'd you go?"

"Just call Mary!"

Ten minutes later, I hung up the phone with Mary and closed my eyes. I was trying to count up how many months it had been since my last menstrual cycle...It had been a little over two months ago.

A strong feeling in my gut told me that what I was suspecting was correct. June was in the kitchen, having left the room so that I could talk to Mary in private. And the moment I found out I was pregnant, my response became primal. A raw instinct that filled me up, forming me into the mother grizzly bear that my mother never was. I pressed my palm against my belly, trying to feel the baby growing inside of me. The baby, of course, was really too small to feel moving yet.

"Diana?" June's voice came from the kitchen door. "Can I come back in?"

"Yeah, c'mon back," I answered, sitting up on the sofa and feeling...I couldn't properly describe how I was feeling. The idea-the fact-that there was another human being growing inside of me was mind-boggling. June returned, looking at me with wide and questioning eyes, silently asking if I really was pregnant. I locked eyes with her and nodded. June's face broke into a smile and she squealed with giddiness.

"Oh my goodness, Diana!" June kept saying. She sat down on the couch beside me. "Joe doesn't know yet, does he? Oh my gosh! You _have_ to tell him the moment he gets home!" She went on and I nodded along, still perplexed at the fact that in a few months, I was going to have a baby. Joe and I were going to have a baby...

A little after five o'clock, Joe came home. June immediately excused herself and said goodbye to Joe, a little too cheerfully. Joe blinked at her, perplexed at her overly sunny personality and turned to where I was standing in the kitchen doorway. "I see you're feeling better. You can stand up at least. Did you and June find out what was wrong with you?"

I nodded, "Yeah, you could say that." Joe frowned at my words and walked over to me.

"What is it?" He asked. I felt a sting hit the back of my eyes as I grabbed his hand and pressed it flat against my stomach. Joe frowned for a moment before his eyebrows rose and he stared at my belly before staring at my face, taking in every inch of it. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, a dry sob of glee sounding. Joe's face exploded into a broad smile and he kissed me hard. He wrapped those strong arms around me and started swaying back and forth, kissing me and shouting out, "We're having a kid!"

When I officially became three months pregnant in early December, Joe started telling as many people as he could. He went next door to both sets of neighbors and told them (although June already knew she had kept the fact a secret). He called his parents, letting them know. Automatically, I stared getting calls from Mrs. Liebgott; she wanted to give me advice on how to know if I was having a boy or girl.

"If you are craving sweets, it is a girl." She told me one day. On another phone call, she asked, "Has Joseph been gaining weight? If he does, than it is a boy."

Joe didn't look to be gaining an weight; he seemed to be maintaining his usual lean form. And I wasn't craving sweets; if anything, I really wanted to eat cheeses and anything salty. But Mrs. Liebgott's myths on knowing the gender were fun to hear about, so I kept an eye out for them just in case there was some sort of truth behind any of it.

Mary and Elizabeth both cheered with delight when they heard. I didn't tell Sally-for obvious reasons. Besides, she still had dinner with my sisters every Sunday. Eventually, someone will tell her.

As for Easy Company, each man was ecstatic. Luz called on the phone to ask if I would name a kid after him. Joe and I got lots of requests like that. Buck, Guarnere, Perconte, and Toye all asked for the child to be named after them.

"We could just give the poor kid five names," I said to Joe one night as we sat in the living room. We were listening to Abbott and Costello on the radio, and Joe turned it down for a moment to narrow his eyes and pretend to be thinking really hard.

"George Lynn Bill Frank Joe Liebgott." Joe said with a laugh. "Poor kid won't make it out kindergarten." I let out a laugh at that, the thought of a five year old struggling to write down five first names on his paper amusing.

The next month, Hana had some interesting words of encouragement to say when she visited one day. "In Japan, we believe in the zodiac. It tells us what our children will be like based on the year of their birth."

"Really?" I asked. It was now January, and my belly was officially beginning to swell. "What does it say about this year?"

"Your son will be born in the year of the Boar," Hana said. "He will be hard-working, strong, trusting." Ever since I told Hana about my pregnancy, she automatically assumed my baby would be a boy. According to Bob, it was a big cultural thing over in Asia. He gave Joe and me the explanation that sons carried on the family name and would take care of the family's ancestors.

Later that month, Hana was telling me more about my child being born in the year of the Boar. "Your son will be a good boy...and so will mine." She said with a smile on her face. I looked up sharply and stared at Hana.

"You're pregnant too?" I asked, feeling overjoyed for my friend. Hana nodded, pride and happiness shining in her face. She told me that she was about two months along, putting me about three months ahead.

Life was finally beginning to settle in. Joe and I had a good life in San Francisco; we had several good friends whether they were apart of Easy or not; and now I was expecting a child. I was arriving home one day, panting for breath because of my now swollen belly. I checked the mail, expecting to see only bills or maybe a postcard from someone in Easy. Instead, the very first letter I saw had hauntingly familiar neat cursive.

"Son of a bitch," I muttered under my breath, bringing Sally's letter inside with me.


	13. 13: Dreams of Peace

I glared at Sally's letter on the kitchen counter. I wanted to shred it, maybe go next door to the Doyles's house and use their incinerator. But after nearly two years of radio silence, she had finally written me something. It was probably her trying to tell me that she was disappointed in me and she'd probably try to give me some excuse about her actions.

I tore open the letter, not able to wait to hear the excuse this time.

 _Dear Diana,_

"That's got more emotion than last time," I grumbled.

 _Dear Diana, I apologize for not being able to attend your wedding. But because I did not receive an invitation, I can only assume that I was not wanted there. Although I still believe that your anger is unreasonable, I do not blame you entirely for not wanting me there. Our last meeting got very heated._

I blinked at the letter. Sally McCall actually accepting some blame for once? Never in my life had I ever witnessed this, and if it wasn't written in front of my face, I still wouldn't have believed it. And calling out last conversation "heated" was a bit of an understatement.

 _What I couldn't believe, however, was the fact that you got pregnant. And that you didn't tell me, your mother._

Oh _there's_ the reason for this letter. I shook my head and let out a bitter laugh. I felt a twitch in my stomach and pressed my left hand against it. My baby kicked once more before holding still. I looked back to the letter.

 _As your child's grandmother, I have a right to know my grandchild. Mary and I do not get along like we used to, but I still know Rodger and Anna. I still see them every Sunday for dinner and occasionally whenever Phillip and Mary need a babysitter. I do realize that I cannot babysit due to the fact that you left to go across the country-another rash decision on your part. But after the baby is born, I'd be glad for you to come and visit. I'll be able to meet my son-in-law as well._

 _Your mother, Sally_

I glared at her words, not wanting to believe how arrogant, how stupid my mother could be. She truly was something else; and she was probably the most heinous bitch I had ever known. I wanted to scream my frustrations at her-all of my frustrations. Not even the most recent slights given to me by her, but for all the hardship I had gotten while over in Europe, for all the times during my childhood where she had been just as emotionally abusive as she was now. I had to let her know now.

Taking a sheet of blank paper, I started to write a letter to Sally. I wrote down only three sentences before I signed it and put it in an envelope.

 _Sally, Honestly, you don't deserve to know my child. Hell, you probably won't ever know them if I have a say in it. You're not the kind of person I want around my child, or my family. Diana._

I mailed it off before I could second guess myself. I tried to imagine Sally's reaction to reading that letter, and I suddenly wanted to go back to Wetumpka just so that I see the look on her face. I made a mental note to myself to ask Mary or Elizabeth if they could let me know what Sally's reaction will be. When Joe got home, I gave him Sally's letter to read, and told him about the one I wrote back. Joe was understandably pissed.

"Why can't that fucking woman just stay out of our lives?" He asked, pacing angrily back and forth in front of our sofa. I sat on my chair, watching him. Joe was seething, looking like he wanted to hit something. "I'm meeting her. I'm gonna meet her and tell her that this is it. If she thinks that she can waltz in and try and _get to know_ our kid, _our_ kid, she's fucking insane."

"You want to go to Alabama and _meet_ her?" I asked, looking at him with wide eyes. Although I had taken pride in the fact that Sally had managed not to meet Joe. I didn't want her to be anywhere near him or anyone from Easy for that matter. There was a reason I kept Toye's brass knuckles, my uniform and medals far away from anything Sally touched. It would tarnish something I couldn't explain if that happened.

Joe glared at me, silently asking why I thought it was a bad idea. I heaved a sigh and shook my head. "If you're plannin' on goin' down South to confront my mother, than at least wait till the baby is born. I have no idea what I'm doing right now and I need you here."

He looked at me, looking like he was tossing up the idea of listening to me or going off to knock down Sally's door anyway. But then he nodded stiffly. "Fine. But the second we're settled with the kid, I'm goin' back to see your damned mom." He paused and smirked. "Hell, I'm gonna recruit Easy, see if they wanna take a shot at Sally."

The thought was tempting. I could only imagine what my brothers would say (or do) to Sally McCall if they ever met her. I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling a slight kick there.

When I was little, I used to pine after my mother's approval. I remember being eight years old, following Sally around and trying to get her attention. I'd paint something and want her approval; I'd memorize an entire page from a book and I'd want her to listen and tell me that I did a good job. It never happened, and when it did, the moments were few and far in between.

I never wanted that to be my relationship with my child. I wanted my son or daughter to be able to come up to me, to show off whenever they felt like it. I hated the relationship Sally and I had. I wanted everything with my child, everything Sally wasn't. I thought about Mrs. Liebgott and her relationship with Joe; she loved her son enough to accept me, someone of a different religion and life. The Liebgotts had lived through the Depression like majority of America. My family had been just fine, with enough money and land to keep us in mild inconvenience. I had never known true struggle until I joined the Army.

* * *

As the months went by, both Hana and I grew in size. Mrs. Liebgott gave me more advice; that if my belly was shaped like a watermelon, it was a girl. If my urine was bright yellow, it was a boy. I told these to Hana, to started to pay extra attention to these sort of details. She was aching for a son. And though Bob wouldn't say it, we all knew he wanted a son as well.

Joe was hiding what gender he wanted. Whenever I asked him, he'd smirk and say, "I'd be happy either way."

"Yes, but if you absolutely had to choose which one you wanted more," I persisted.

He laughed at me. "You're not gonna get an answer outta me." I kept trying, wanting to know how he really felt. Personally, I wanted a son. I could imagine a little boy with black hair following me around the house. I wanted to see Easy meeting him, the men taking turns carrying my son up on their shoulders.

On May twenty-eighth of nineteen-forty-seven, my son is born. My son is born with a head full of black hair and a long face. His eyelashes are long and dark, and his tiny fingers grab onto one of my fingers and he holds on with an extremely tight grip. Instantly, I feel a white-hot feeling surges through me and an overwhelming wave of protectiveness fills me up. This was my son, an actual person I had helped make and he was of my blood.

The first time I hear that baby cry, I love my son more than anything.

When Joe sees his son for the first time, his face goes limp and it breaks into a broad smile that showed off all of his teeth. He let out a wild sounding laugh before getting to hold him for the first time. Tears come to Joe's eyes unwillingly and my husband doesn't bother trying to wipe them away.

We name our son, Warren Joseph Liebgott; after Skip Muck and Joe.

Mrs. Liebgott arrives the next day. I had called her a few weeks prior, asking her if she could come by and help me for the first few days. Mrs. Liebgott agreed to in a heartbeat. She spent the whole week trying to get me to take naps, helping me learn how to breast feed, and basically taking care of the house while I took care of Warren.

 _"Mein Enkel,"_ She'd whisper to him while she rocked Warren back and forth. Joe gave me enough German lessons to know that she was saying "my grandson". I liked the idea of my son being able to understand both English and German, and felt pride for the future Warren could be a part of.

When Warren was a month old, Malarkey, Luz, Guarnere, and Toye all arrived at once to meet Warren. Frannie Guarnere came along, and she was ecstatic to meet my son. "He's got your eyes," Frannie told me, holding Warren and making funny faces at him. Warren laughed at her faces and looked to be as happy as an infant could be.

"Just wait, Di," Luz said when it was his turn to carry around Warren. "I'm gonna teach this kid how to jump outta planes, how to whistle. It's gonna be great."

"How long d'you plan on staying here, Luz?" I asked. My friends laughed at that and Luz started to make faces at Warren, causing my son to laugh even louder.

Guarnere and Toye had both gone back to using crutches. They had some difficulty getting around the house at first, but the pair of them stubbornly got the hang of it. My neighbors met my best friends from Easy. Bob enjoyed talking to them, as did Duncan. June made fast friends with Frannie and her sunny personality and easy-going acceptance got her a fast friendship with the men.

Hana, on the other hand, was clearly terrified. She recognized the men as military, the type of men who had invaded her homeland and hated her the second they laid eyes on her. Her belly was round with her own baby, and she still had a month to go. The men noticed how they made Hana feel, because they tried to do their best to keep her comfortable.

"How different is the U.S.A?" Malarkey asked Hana at some point. "Are you from a city like this, or was it more in the country?"

"America is very different," Hana told him quietly. "And I was born in a city on the mainland. We moved out to an island before I was ten."

"Tokyo?" Luz asked. It was probably the only Japanese city he knew.

Hana shook her head and hesitated before saying, "No, Hiroshima." Bob moved forward and put his arm around Hana. This signaled the end of questions about Hana's past and began to questions about her life now.

My group of friends left after five days of visiting with me and Joe. I hugged each of them as tightly as I could, as was now tradition. The men promised to be back soon and they left via the train station once more. More men from Easy came to visit, including Winters, Nixon, Lipton, Perconte, Bull, and Buck. They were all so happy so see the life that Joe and I had built and they were even happier with our son and the name we had chosen.

One night, it was Nixon, Bull, and Buck sitting in my backyard. Our neighbors were there as well, meeting each batch of Easy as they came and went. Joe had a big cooler sitting beside the chairs so that everyone could reach in and pull out a beer (or in my and Hana's case, a water). I had Warren sitting on my hip, my son now almost three months old. Winters stood beside me, looking out at the men mingling with civilians.

"This is what it should've been like all the time, McCall," Winters told me. I looked at my former commanding officer and smiled softly. Winters reached over at patted Warren's head a bit, feeling the soft black hair there. "You did good for yourself."

"Thank you, Winters." I said. Warren looked at Winters with wide eyes, my eyes. We stood together for a while, both enjoying the view of what peace looked like.


	14. 14: Nursing and Healing

Hana gave birth to a daughter the next month. The little girl is named Nancy, and she looked just like her mom. Bob's genetics, with his blond hair and brown eyes, didn't stand a chance against Hana's black hair and black eyes. And although the pair of them wanted a son, they loved their baby girl so damn much.

With both of us now with children, I was surprised to see that June still hung around us as much as she could. June loved being with the babies, she held them almost every time she came over. If she thought she could get away with it, she'd carry both of them over to her house.

During this time, I wondered why June didn't have children. She was older than both me and Hana, and she and Duncan had been together for longer than me and Joe or Hana and Bob. June loved our children, and it made me wonder why she didn't have her own. I thought about asking a few times, but that question was way too personal and it'd be rude to even utter the words. June had been a good friend to me by not asking the questions she was probably dying to ask. I was at least going to do the same for her.

June's motherly attitude made her a fantastic sitter for Warren when I finally decided to go back to work. For those first few weeks, all I could think about was getting back to Warren. I loved my job, and I loved having something to do with my time again, but my son went above all of that. Dr. Adkins noticed my newfound restlessness and offered me a new arrangement, "Why don't you come in during the late shift? That way you get to spend time with your child and you'd still get to come here a few times a week."

I took this offer up, to which Joe agreed with. He looked down at Warren when he heard this new arrangement. "You hear that? Father and son time." He smirked and I rolled my eyes, knowing that father and son time would amount to Joe feeding Warren and then making an attempt to burp him. Joe was a good dad; everything he did now, he did for our Warren. Whether that was working longer hours for more money, or waking up at two in the morning when Warren started crying.

As I started working the late afternoon and early evening shifts at the hospital, I gathered a lot of information when it came to my coworkers. Between six-thirty and seven, most of the nurses went off to smoke cigarettes or whatever it was they did every day. I spent a lot of time with Mrs. Turner, who was a secretary with me and who was just as bitter and rude as she had been when I first met her. I had a few conversations with her, and didn't like what I was hearing.

I hated the Japanese and Germans responsible for committing crimes beyond my explanation, I didn't hate their entire races for being that certain race.

According to Mrs. Turner, the entire countries of Germany and Japan were to blame for everything that went wrong in our lifetime. "Think about it, Liebgott." Mrs. Turner said to me one evening. "First there was the First World War, and then the second. If we have a third by the time your child's in high school, it wouldn't surprise me. You're a veteran-you of all people should understand this." The way she said that I was a veteran was the same mix of emotions that women in Aldbourne used to give me: pity and frustration.

Mrs. Turner and I were working late one evening (the nurses had all disappeared, this time with a lot of doctors going with them) when a Chinese couple burst into the office. The husband was carrying a small boy in his arms-he looked to be about three years old. The wife rushed forward and crashed into our front desk.

"Please," She said. "Baby needs help." She made a wild gesture back to her son. I stood up from my seat and walked around the desk. Mrs. Turner hissed softly at me but I ignored her. I gently moved the wife aside to get a good look at her son. The little boy's was shaking intensely and his eyes were rolling around, trying to find something to focus on. The mother had started crying in fear.

"This way," I ordered the man, using the commanding voice I hadn't needed to use since Europe. The man looked like he understood my tone, not my words, and he quickly followed me into an exam room. Mrs. Turner watched me take them with narrowed eyes directly on the small family. I knew about her mistrust of any Asian people, but I shut her out and hurried them into the room.

"What happened?" I asked them, hoping one of them would understand. The father looked to his wife.

"He got fever few days ago," She said in broken English. "He start shaking now." Fresh tears filled her eyes.

I pulled out a stethoscope from the drawer and listened to his heartbeat. His pulse was still going, but it was getting fainter. I removed the stethoscope as the mother listed foods that they had had in their meal right before he got sick: peanuts, rice, celery, chicken, peas, eggs, and tiny bits of carrot. "Is he allergic to any of those?" She shook her head, not knowing.

How could you not know? I found myself asking over and over. In my mind, I went over the foods that were rationed during the war and my stopped on eggs. Rationed foods were just now really getting to the minorities of the country. Eggs were just now becoming available again...

"Has he ever had eggs before?" I asked.

"Not that I know," She said. "Not big portion." The little boy was still shaking violently, his eyes closed. I made myself think back to training in Toccoa, back when a man named Unger taught me and Roe all about the men's allergies. I remembered instantly that one of the replacements had been allergic to eggs. What did he tell us about _treating_ allergies-?

I quickly rushed to the cabinet and opened it, scanning the many bottles of medicine until I found the one I needed. I pulled it down and poured a big spoonful. "Sit him up." I ordered. The mother understood and sat up her son. The boy's head lolled around and his father held him steady. As soon as I opened the kid's mouth, I forced the spoon into his mouth and down his throat. The boy's eyes widened and he almost tried to cough it back up but I stroked his throat, causing him to swallow.

There was a moment where nothing happened, and then the little boy heaved forward and I quickly put a trash can under his face. The boy threw up into it, his tiny arms wrapping around the trash can for support. His mom looked at me with wide eyes and I showed her the bottle of ipecac syrup. My thought process went along the lines of if the boy threw up his stomach contents, the eggs would leave his system.

The boy was feeling better after a few minutes; he finally stopped shaking. I made up a list of all foods with eggs in them, leading to a giant list. I gave it to the mother and made sure she understood that her son couldn't have these or else they'd end up right back here. She nodded several times and smiled gratefully at me. Her husband gave me a slight bow, carrying his son out and tears of happiness in his eyes. When they were gone, I went back to the front desk to Mrs. Turner.

"Why did you do that?" Mrs. Turner asked through gritted teeth. I glared at her.

"I'm not gonna apologize for saving a little boy's life," I told her firmly. Mrs. Turner stiffened and went back to filing papers.

The next morning went I went in for work, I was called into Dr. Adkins's office. Mrs. Turner gave me a blank look before turning her nose up at me. I went into my boss's office-he had taken the night off last night. Dr. Adkins gestured for me to sit and he sighed.

"I heard from Mrs. Turner that you treated a sick boy last night." Dr. Adkins started.

"None of the nurses of our wing were there," I said. "A lot of the doctors were also gone. You told me that for this job, I needed medical training of some sort. It seemed like common sense to try and save a little boy's life when no one else was present or willing."

"You're not in trouble, Mrs. Liebgott." Dr. Adkins said. "In fact, I'm recommending you to a nursing program that the University of California has. It's one of the best medical schools at the moment, and it's right here in town. I was writing my letter of recommendation right when you came in." He paused, taking in my stunned silence. He smiled and snorted. "You diagnosed and treated that boy to the nest of your abilities faster than most of my nurses who just came here to intern. Besides, I can't picture you as a secretary for the rest of your life."

Mrs. Turner must've been expecting me to get fired, or at the least severely reprimanded, because when I left Dr. Adkins's office with not even a slap on the wrist, she glared and shook her head, as if she couldn't believe it. I could barely believe it; but the idea of becoming a nurse, getting paid to do more of what I used to do, was far too tempting to even try to turn down.


	15. 15: Life After Us

That night, I made Joe's favorite dinner-pot roast with baked sweet potatoes and fried okra. June stayed in my kitchen while I cooked, occasionally helping but mostly holding Warren and trying to play peek-a-boo with him. I told her about Dr. Adkins recommending me to the University of California for nursing, and my friend's mouth turned into a perfect "O" as she expressed her delight.

"That's amazing, Diana!" She exclaimed. Warren let out a high pitched noise and waved a fist in the air. I laughed at my son and held out a hand to him. Warren reached out and squeezed the life out of my fingers. Whenever Joe felt the strength that Warren had in his tiny fingers, Joe would make loud groaning noises as if he was in pain. The sight of his father acting like a fool always put a smile on Warren's face.

"Are you going to take it?" June asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"I'd have to be stupid to let this go to waste." I said, raising my eyebrows once. June giggled and nodded.

"Well, I'm happy for you. And I don't envy you," June replied. "I'd hate to work all the time. Mind you, I got a taste of that during the war. I was one of the girls who went to work in the factories, you know."

"I didn't know you did that." I said. "No wonder you like to wear your hair like Rosie the Riveter's."

June rolled her eyes over-dramatically. "I worked in a factory all day and made bullets for you overseas. And besides, Rosie's hair is _very_ fashionable." I laughed along with her on that. Warren, being five months old and not able to understand anything we were saying, laughed along with us, for the simple reason that we were.

When Joe got home, he took a few steps in before stopping and smelling the air. "What the fuck?" He muttered softly with a grin. I gave him a mock glare and jerked my head towards Warren, where he was in his playpen playing with his wooden alphabet blocks. Joe rolled his eyes, "Sorry, Warren." He turned back to me. "You know he won't understand what I said."

"I know that," I said, looking from Joe to Warren. "But still, we can't have him goin' off to kindergarten with that kind of language."

Joe laughed at that. "I take it by the smell in the air you've been cooking?" I nodded.

"Sir, yes sir," I said, getting up and walking into the kitchen. Joe followed me after he picked up Warren. The dinner I had made was all ready. I had already fed Warren his meal of peas in the form baby food. He was five months old and the doctor had said that he should be ready for baby food now. Joe was starting to look between the food and me, knowing that something was going on.

"What did you do?" He asked. I smiled broadly at him.

"Well, you remember how I told you about that Chinese family?" I asked. Joe nodded. "Dr. Adkins had a talk with me this morning about it. And he has recommended me to the University of California for nursing."

Joe stared at me for a moment before letting out a manic laugh. "That's amazing! You're taking it, right? Because that could mean more money and the G.I Bill will help pay for classes..." He cut himself off and turned down to Warren. "Your mom is awesome." Warren giggled at the tone Joe was using.

I watched the two of them interact. My boys, both with heads full of dark black hair and the same nose. I couldn't imagine life without either of them.

I turned twenty-five that November, and that December, Warren had his first Hanukkah and Christmas. Mr. and Mrs. Liebgott visited for the week of Hanukkah, so I had my in-laws giving me more instruction on whatever Joe didn't tell me about their holiday. But Joe had been pretty thorough, something that pleased both of my in-laws.

In the January of nineteen-forty-eight, I started classes at University of California. My schedule became very busy now; classes on the evenings of Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; secretary work at the hospital on Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday morning; and taking care of Warren every time in between then.

I received word from Mary that she and Phillip were expecting a third child, making that new due date some time in July. Elizabeth also called, letting me know that she had enrolled in the University of Florida. It had taken her a while, but she had managed to decide on what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.

"I've always admired teachers," Elizabeth told me over the phone. "You know; the teachers who could inspire you to make you _want_ to learn stuff. And I've always been great at math."

"I could picture you as a math teacher," I said. After a pause I asked, "What does Sally think?"

There was a long pause before Elizabeth said. "She's not happy about me leavin'. Not as mad as she was with you, but still pretty angry. She doesn't like the thought of me living a long ways away from her." She paused. "But, surprisingly, I'm a lot happier down here in Florida." Elizabeth had trouble putting the feeling into words, but I knew exactly how she felt.

My sister hadn't known that she was under our mother's thumb until she was free from it. I hadn't either. For me, it had taken me volunteering and a few cruel letters for me to realize just how emotionally abusive Sally was. For Elizabeth, it had taken watching what happened to me.

In February, June announced that she was pregnant. Duncan was glowing with pride, happy to finally be so close to being a father. Hana and I were just as happy for her as she had been for us. Joe and Bob both congratulated Duncan. Warren and Nancy, both too young to understand anything that was going on, just looked around at the rest of us, smiling and giggling and making those baby noises that I had become so fond of.

Malarkey sent me a long letter soon after that, telling me that he had asked Irene Moor to marry him. She said yes. At the end of the long letter, there was, "P.S, take this as your invitation. And bring your kid with you!" I was so excited for my best friend that I just shoved the letter into Joe's hands, not able to speak due to my happiness for Malarkey. Joe's face broke into a big smile when he read the whole thing.

"I got a feeling that we're gonna be invited to a whole lot of weddings for the next few years." Joe said. Sure enough, just in that month alone, Joe and I were invited to the weddings of Winters, Bull, Toye, and Luz. The events would happen scattered throughout the year, and at each one I'd find out that some of the other men had eloped with girls. Perconte was one of these men, showing up to Malarkey's wedding with a girl named Evelyn on his arm.

I finally got to meet the girl that Malarkey had told me all about. Irene was amazing for him too, kind and fun to be around. She had curly blond hair and bright blue eyes, and when she smiled she showed off straight and white teeth. When I saw Malarkey look at Irene, I saw someone who was whole again, as if war had never touched him.


	16. 16: Jet Pack Blues

In nineteen-forty-nine, I gave birth to another child-a daughter this time. Victoria Marie Liebgott was born on November fifth, just a few weeks before my own. Warren, now two years old and able to waddle around on his own, enjoyed trying to get a good look at his sister. He spent a lot of time following me around whenever I was carrying her; that is, whenever Joe would let me hold her.

Joe loved that little girl. He liked being the one to hold her most of the time, and he often told me how he was already plotting up ways on how to keep boys away from his little girl. Victoria had Joe's bright hazel eyes, the color and exact shape of his eyes. "She looks like you, you know." Joe told me one evening after dinner. Warren was already asleep and we were sitting beside the radio, listening to the faint hum of broadcasters talking.

I looked up at the two of them. Joe was sprawled out in his chair, with baby Victoria resting on his chest. I smiled at the sight and went back to the newspaper.

In the next year of nineteen-fifty, the Korean War begins. Joe and I find out that both Winters and Speirs are involved, the pair of them continuing their careers in the Army. I didn't even bother entertaining the idea of going back to war. I had two kids now and a husband; if I could help it, I wasn't going back out there. Joe felt the same way, the idea of going back into war sending the both of us into more nightmares that caused us to wake up soaked in sweat.

"Five years of peace," I said one night. Joe was laying down beside me; I had just woken him up from a nightmare. He didn't tell me what it was about, and I knew enough by now never to push. He'd open up eventually, telling me about it on his own. "All America got was five years of peace."

Joe blinked and glanced at me. "Hopefully this one doesn't last that long."

With a new war going on in Asia, Hana found herself once again a hated member of society. It didn't matter if she was Japanese and not Korean; her face was Asian, and that was all that mattered to people in the grocery stores, people walking down the streets, and so on. Her daughter Nancy was just three years old now, so she didn't receive any hate.

Between our three families, there were four children. Joe and I had Warren and Victoria, Bob and Hana had Nancy, and Duncan and June had their daughter, Marilyn. Warren, the oldest and the only boy, suddenly became the leader of a group of toddlers. Whenever we all went to the beach, Nancy and Marilyn would follow Warren wherever he went.

"Why do I get the feeling that one of our girls is going to marry your son?" June asked me one day at the beach. Duncan, Joe, and Bob were a little farther away, digging a pit to cook barbecue. Hana, June, and I were sitting under umbrellas, drinking the small and fruity drinks that June had made for our day trip. Victoria was sitting quietly on my lap. And Warren had the two girls with him sitting a few feet away. He was trying to teach them a game that Malarkey had taught him last time he visited.

I stared at Warren, who kept reaching out to move Nancy's hands a certain way because she was holding them wrong. Then he'd have to correct Marilyn. I laughed shortly and looked back at June and Hana. "If that does happen, I won't be surprised in the slightest."

During that year, I got yet another letter from Sally McCall. This time, I didn't bother reading it; I went into the backyard and lit the damned thing on fire. I had no idea what Sally was trying to tell me, but I just didn't care anymore. In the end, it didn't matter because Mary called me to let me know what was going on.

"Mother has cancer," Mary said softly over the phone. I straightened in my seat, not knowing what to think. Mary continued. "Stomach cancer. The doctor said something about it being genetic. There's a survival rate, but it's a low one. I think she wrote you a few days after finding out."

"What does she want from me?" I asked, knowing this was not the question you were supposed to ask when your mother was diagnosed with stomach cancer.

"I have no idea," Mary said. "She might want to meet your children. She might want to talk to you again in case something happens. It could be anything really."

After this conversation, I thought long and hard about my mother. By now, she should be fifty-seven years old, and beginning a fight with stomach cancer. I shook my head at the shitty circumstances, pissed off with her for pushing me away right before this happened. Joe noticed my silence that night, because he nudged my arm and raised his eyebrows at me.

That action, one we used to only do because of the fighting raging around us, finally pushed all the emotions I had been feeling up to the surface. "Sally has stomach cancer." I said, feeling tears sting my eyes and instantly getting angrier at Sally and myself for it. I vented my frustrations and sadness at Joe, and my husband took it, listening silently and being the rock I needed him to be.

"Why the fuck did she push me away the way she did?" I asked. Both of our kids were napping, so I didn't bother censoring myself. "Why the fuck didn't _I_ try and do something?"

"Stop blaming yourself for something you couldn't help," Joe hissed at me. He stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. I hugged him back, shaking and wanting to hit something at the same time. Joe kept holding onto me. "This isn't your fault; none of it. Not your mom getting cancer, or her being the bitch that she naturally is. The real question is what you wanna do now."

"You mean, am I gonna keep ignorin' her or am I gonna go see her for, maybe, the last time?" I asked, pulling away from him. Joe kept his eyes on my face, watching my movements carefully. I heaved a breath and rested my forehead on his chest. Joe rubbed one of his hands down the length of my back. "I still can't stand her. But I can't go on without saying _something_ to her." I said.

"Understandable," Joe muttered, continuing to be the steady ground I walked upon.


	17. 17: What If

Montgomery's train station was exactly the same since I had last been here. That had been five years ago, and somehow I was right back here. I saw posters of Uncle Sam everywhere, asking civilians to buy war bonds and for young men to volunteer for the military. I remembered seeing posters making fun of Hitler, Mussolini, and the Japanese last time I was here. Now it was all about making fun of Koreans.

I took a cab to Wetumpka. The ride seemed so long; I had grown so used to having everywhere I needed within a five minute trolley-ride distance. Or even within walking distance. I had forgotten how small and spread out Wetumpka was. But before long, the cab was driving me over the Bibb Graves Bridge and towards the house where Phillip and Mary lived. The stone arches of the bridge reminded me of the Golden Gate bridge, and a new wave of homesickness hit me.

Joe had wanted to come, and he was still uneasy about the idea of me going by myself. But I had insisted, telling him that he'd probably punch Sally in the face if he saw her. "I'm always gonna want to do that." Joe said haughtily. I tied him over by saying that he'd get the whole time with Warren and Victoria. I still didn't want my kids to meet Sally.

She may be my mother, but she was still a toxic person to be around.

I rang the doorbell to Mary's house when I arrived. My sister had quit her job as a hair dresser so that she could take care of her three babies. Rodger was six years old now and in school, but both Anna and the youngest, Leonard, had to stay at home with Mary. My older sister opened the door and hugged me tightly the second she could.

"How's she been?" I asked Mary when we finally moved inside and I was able to sit down on her sofa. Mary sighed and shrugged.

"Mother's always been prickly," She said, causing me to snort. Mary glanced at me but continued. "She's holdin' up. She's got Eugenia and a nurse from the hospital there taking care of her. I've been visitin' her every now and then."

Anna rushed into the room, her four year old legs carrying her as fast as they could. "Auntie Diane!" She shouted before running right into my legs. I smiled down at my niece and lifted her up into my lap with ease. Anna reached out a small hand and touched my ear stump. "Does your head hurt?"

"No, my head feels fine," I said. Anna smiled and slid off my lap, going over to her mother. While the young girl asked Mary what was for dinner, I looked around the living room. It had changed in the lat five years, showing signs that the Holbrook family had grown and changed over that time period. I thought back to my own living room back in San Francisco, and wondered how that house looked to outsiders.

"Diana?" Mary asked, snapping me from my thoughts. I looked over to her. "Does fried chicken sound good to you?" I nodded, still thinking about San Francisco and my family that remained there. Anna waddled off to go play with her toys and Mary stood up. "Let's go for a walk." She said to me. Mary quickly put Rose Marie in charge of watching Anna and Leonard and then my older sister pushed me out of the door and towards the playground across the street.

Mary's neighborhood was a fairly rich one, with a private playground and the Coosa River just beyond that. A wooden fence lined the far side of the playground, blocking the children that played here from going over the side of the cliff and into the river below. Mary and I walked over to that fence and from where we stood, I could see the stone arches of the Bibb Graves bridge.

"Remember when that bridge was built?" Mary asked. "Back before there were even rumors about war?"

"I was a freshmen in high school," I said. "I remember everyone in town being excited about it 'cause we wouldn't have to take the long way around anymore." I distinctly remembered what is was like to be fifteen and without a care in the world. Back then, I had assumed that everyone's mother was just as "strict" as mine. I snorted with amusement. "I'd like to see how my classmates would react to seeing me now."

Mary didn't answer, instead she looked at me and she had a look of fear on her face. "Diana, what if she dies?"

Now I didn't answer. I had never had the relationship that Mary had with Sally-Mary was the favorite. What could I possibly say to try and level with her? Mary must've realized what she said, because she turned towards the speeding river and blinked, trying to get rid of the tears in her eyes. I reached out and wrapped an arm around her, causing my older sister, the one I used to turn to whenever things went dark, to lean heavily on me and to start crying her eyes out.

We stood like that for a long time, with Mary crying and me standing as firm as I could, holding her and making small noises of comfort. When she finally ran out of tears, Mary and I walked back to her house. When we got to her front porch, I paused and asked if I could possibly see Sally that night before dinner. Mary blinked and nodded. "Yeah, um, yeah. D'you want to wait for Phillip to take you?"

"No; I'll take a cab." I replied.

* * *

I stared at my childhood home, not sure whether I was "allowed" to be here. I wondered if Eugenia, Sally's maid, was still on duty. The older black lady had always been kind to me and she had mothered me more than Sally ever had. I sighed heavily before ringing the doorbell.

It was a long time before Eugenia answered the door. She stared at me for a long moment, shock registering in her eyes. "Miss Diana," Eugenia said in a quiet voice. "Miss Sally wasn't expectin' you."

"I came by myself," I said, shifting my feet. "Is it okay if I see her?" Eugenia hesitated before side-stepping to let me in. I entered the huge house, suddenly very uncomfortable. Eugenia said something about going to tell Sally that I was here. I nodded absentmindedly and looked around the foyer. It literally hadn't changed since I volunteered. Eugenia returned to tell me that Sally was ready to see me now.

I made my way to the master bedroom by myself, passing my old bedroom. I made a mental note to go and check it out before I left this house. Finally, I found myself outside of Sally's closed bedroom door. I sighed before knocking, a little too loudly. "Come in," Sally's voice came from inside, and so I did.

Through the classes I had taken at the University of California, and my every day routine at work, I had learned about the signs and symptoms of all of the cancers. Sally McCall was showing the classic signs of stomach cancer, with yellowish skin and the shrunken appearance of someone who had lost an unhealthy amount of weight in a short amount of time. I could smell the sickness in the air the moment I walked into the room, and a trash bin rested beside Sally's bed, showing off the source of the smell.

Sally groaned from her bed. "Stop looking at me with medical eyes of yours and get over here." I obeyed without thinking about it, my military training and years of listening to Sally kicking back in to do what I was told without question. I walked forward until I got to the foot of the bed. Sally struggled to sit up and she narrowed her eyes at me. "Your hips and breasts got bigger."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Havin' two kids does that." Sally grunted and grimaced as she straightened in bed. I fought the urge to help her and I studied the bottles of medicine and drugs on her bedside table. I read some of the names on the drugs, trying to see just what her doctors here were giving her. Sally followed my gaze and smirked.

"Tryin' to figure out if my doctors are taking care of me?" Sally asked. "Mary told me how you're finally a nurse out there in San Francisco. After seeing you trail after-oh, what's his name? The doctor who used to come around? You followed him around like he was Jesus Christ himself."

"Jesus _did_ heal people," I pointed out.

"Is that something you're teachin' that Jew husband of yours?"

I glared at her. "You can criticize and harass me all you want, but don't you dare mention Joe."

"He's my son-in-law."

"No he's not," I snapped. "Y'all have never met, and believe me, he doesn't want to meet you. If he ever does, it's probably just to punch you." Sally looked slightly alarmed.

"When did you get this hostile?"

"About eight years ago," I said. "The Army has a way of changin' people."

Sally snorted, as if she was expecting this subject to come up. "Ah yes, the Army. Why the government decided to let you go off to fight, I'll never know."

"I wasn't the only women out there, you know? I met one girl who was in the Pacific a few years ago." I pointed out, remembering that day where I had briefly met a girl named Eleanor Swartz, the twin sister of someone I had saved back in Normandy. Sally ignored me.

"I can't pretend to know what you went through-"

"No, you can't." I interrupted her. I had only been in here for about ten minutes, and I was already emotionally drained by being with her. "You didn't see what I saw, you weren't the one writing me letters to check in on me and make sure I was okay. Hell, I got more affection from Sobel than I ever got with you."

"Who?"

I sighed. "Doesn't matter. I'll be back tomorrow, maybe. If I don't leave by then." I started to turn away and Sally started hacking behind me. I glanced over my shoulder to see her bent over her trash can, puking as lady like as she possibly could. I sighed and left before she could drag me back into a conversation.


	18. 18: Still

I found out I was pregnant again on my way back home to San Francisco. I had been throwing up more lately, and by now I knew the signs of early pregnancy. Joe's reaction was the same, overjoyed with the thought of another baby. Victoria had just turned one, putting that single year between her and her new sibling.

As time went on and the year turned to nineteen-fifty-one, every now and then, my mind would travel back to Wetumpka and the family I left behind. Sally still lived with cancer, in that big house up in Jasmine Hills. Phillip and Mary had their children. By now, Rodger was seven years old and Anna was five. They attended the elementary school in Wetumpka. Leonard was three years old, and the last child my older sister would have.

I rubbed my large belly, feeling my baby move inside me. Victoria started crying from her crib, and I stood up with some difficulty to go calm her.

I'm at the beginning of my ninth month when I start feeling intense pains in my tummy. This wasn't the same pain I felt when Warren or Victoria tried to enter this world. This pain was deep, and far too early. I feel a wetness on my thighs and look down, expecting to see water. But instead I saw dark red blood. Something was horribly wrong...

"Joe," I call out. My husband was probably in the living room, playing with Warren. "Joseph!" I cried out, much louder this time. There was a pause before Joe burst into the bedroom and saw me with blood running down my legs.

"What the fuck?" He asked before rushing over and grabbing onto me. "What's happening?"

"I don't know," I gasped, a feeling like a knife pushing through my gut. "Oh my God, Joe it hurts!" I gritted my teeth and squeezed onto his hand, easily turning his fingers blue.

"Breathe, Di, breathe," Joe hissed through his teeth. He wormed his hand out of mine before darting off. He was back two minutes later. "C'mon; we're going to the hospital."

I yelped in pain as another agonizing contraction happened. "Warren and Victoria?"

"Duncan's taking them next door." Joe explained. He tried to tug me along, but with the amount of pain I was in, we weren't getting very far. Finally, Joe just scooped me up and carried me downstairs and outside as fast as he could. Duncan was outside, talking to some cab driver. When he saw us coming out, he rushed over and helped Joe put me in the cab. "Take care of my kids," Joe hissed at Duncan, who nodded promptly and closed the cab for us.

An hour later at the hospital, a daughter is born. But she never breathes. A nurse wraps her into a blanket and brings her to me. My second baby girl has the shape of Joe's head and my lips, my ears. She had long, dark eyelashes and a head full of black hair. The doctor works on me while I hold her in my arms, staring into her face. Finally he stands and says, "Mrs. Liebgott, we have to put you under for surgery."

When the nurse takes my daughter away, I know I'll never see her again. Tears run down my face and blind me as they slip the mask over my nose and mouth. I am grateful for the black cloud that comes and swallows me whole.

* * *

According to the doctor, stillbirths occur when the baby dies inside of the womb while close to its due date. He throws some technical and medical bullshit that I can barely keep up with. The only thing my brain could register was: _stillbirth, stillbirth, stillbirth._

I have to stay in the hospital for another twenty-four hours, so that the doctors can monitor me in case I need another surgery, or in case I do something "rash", as the doctor said. I was beginning to hate that word: rash. It was the word Sally had used when I volunteered to be a paratrooper, and now it was the word my doctor was using in case I felt the need to harm myself.

Joe is allowed to see me once after the surgery, and instantly his expression causes me great pain. Joe looks like someone has just ripped his heart right out of his chest, and he just looks drained by every meaning of the word. Without a word, he lays down in the hospital bed with me and presses himself against me, burying his face into the crook of my shoulder and neck. I wrap my arms around him as best as I can, trying to hold back more tears. We lay like that for the longest time, until I feel myself fall asleep with Joe breathing heavily into my neck.

I have no idea how they find out, but after I'm home for a week, some of my brothers show up on my front porch. Malarkey, Luz, Guarnere, Toye, and Bull show up one after the other, crowding each other in my living and elbowing each other so that they can sit beside me. I had acquired a sort of shrunken appearance, due to losing a vast amount of weight in just a few hours, but they never bring it up.

Instead, they spend their time making me laugh, informing me about their lives, and actually picking up after themselves. On all the other times they visited me, they always stayed in the same hotel. But Joe gave them the run of the living room, so they fought over who got to sleep on the couch and who had the seat beside the radio.

One night, we're all sitting in my backyard. Bull has Victoria in one of his large arms, and my daughter keeps trying to take the cigar out of his mouth.

"Bull, you're gonna end up burning the poor kid," Malarkey said, drinking a beer from his place by my side. I perk up instantly, my mother grizzly bear instinct ramming into me.

"Toye, you take her before Di rips me to shreds." Bull said, gently handing Victoria to Toye. Toye had taken off his prosthetic, and he took Victoria into his arms happily. His face looked darker with stubble, and from what I heard, he had a son with that girl named Betty. Joe watches Victoria with eyes like a hawk; ever since... _it_ happened, he has been even more protective of the two children he had now. The same went for me.

Warren toddles around on his four year old legs, going from man to man. He goes up to Luz the most, or as Warren has dubbed him: the Guy with the Funny Face. Luz always makes faces at any child who looked at him for more than five seconds, so this nickname if very fitting.

My nightmares kick back in around this time, but this time my poor daughter is a part of them. I constantly see a young girl or an adult of who my child could've been. These nightmares weren't as gory or loud as my flashbacks to Europe, but somehow they were just as bad, if not worse.

But then one night, after my brothers from Easy have left after living with us for a whole week, I have a dream, not a nightmare. I see my daughter, looking like a toddler, sitting down right beside Skip. I woke up almost instantly, tears springing to my eyes and pain radiating in my chest.

"Was that a nightmare?" Joe asked, still awake. He had gotten into the habit of not going to sleep until I was sound asleep.

I paused before saying, "I don't think so." I explained what I had seen, and Joe watched me with narrowed eyes. When I finished, I looked over to my husband, wanting to know his opinion. He always gave it anyway.

"Skip's keepin' an eye on her for us." Joe finally said. I suddenly remembered back to Aldbourne, when Skip and I had shared a home with that English family. The young daughter had been very shy-Sylvia was her name. Skip had always been very friendly with her, seeming to know what to do with kids. The idea of him taking care of my daughter up there, made me feel better than I had felt in a long time.


	19. 19: The Fifties

There's a lemonade stand right in front of my house. I sit on my front porch, sipping the freshly squeezed lemonade that Warren had made, enjoying the late summer breeze. Joe had tried to help Warren make his lemonade stand, but our five year old had wanted to do it by himself. The quality of this stand showed just that, being just a plank of wood held up by two sturdy cardboard boxes. But Warren, proving himself to be just as stubborn as his parents, wanted to do this project all by himself, refusing help of any kind.

"He should've set it up outside of my work," Joe said to me, drinking his own cup of lemonade. "With men going to the harbor and coming back home, he'd have lots of business."

"You want to try tellin' him that?" I asked, giving Joe a side glance. Joe rolled his eyes at me right as Victoria toddled up to him, a new drawing clenched in her hands.

"Look, Daddy," She says in a naturally loud voice. She stuck the drawing up into his face, and from what I could see it's a crayon drawing of a horse. Joe took the paper from Vicky and shows me.

"This needs to go to the museum." He states. Joe looked back down to Vicky and handed her the drawing back. "Does the horse have a name?"

Vicky frowned, a dimple showing right between her eyebrows. "I think his name is Buttercup." Joe gives his daughter a wide smile, causing her to grin right back and go back to coloring a new picture.

From the sidewalk, a couple stops by Warren's lemonade stand. The five year old straightened and proudly announced that a small cup was a nickel, and a large cup was a dime. The couple both pay for large cups, and Warren looks back to me and Joe, beaming proudly at us.

It's been a year since my last pregnancy ended with a stillbirth. I had grieved for a long time, and I was still grieving, but in a smaller way. I had written down my girl's birthday, so that I'd be able to celebrate it, along with Joe. Speaking of him, it had taken several months before I felt comfortable with sex again. For a long time, I couldn't bring myself to be touched like that again, for fear of what might happen again.

During my abstinence, Hana had gotten pregnant again, and just last month she had the son she had wanted so badly. Peter was probably the loudest baby I had ever met. Both Warren and Vicky had been fairly quiet.

Now, I was drumming my fingers on the arm of my chair, not quite sure how to talk to Joe now. Joe, having that radar sense when it came to me and our kids, glanced over at me a few times before turning in his chair to stare at me.

"What's bothering you?" He asked. I glanced from him, to where our kids were doing their own agendas, down to my belly, and then to him. Joe caught on lightning fast to what I was implying and his eyebrows shot up towards his hairline. "Are you sure?" He asked in a soft voice.

"I think so; it's only been a month, but I'm never late." I said. "The only times I'm late are when there's a baby." Vicky looked up, probably because her parents had suddenly started talking in low voices. I smiled at her, "Could you color me another horse, sweet pea?" I ask her. Vicky smiled right back and goes to work in a hurry. Joe is still staring at me with eyes.

He swallowed, causing his Adam's apple to bob. "Listen, Di." He said in a quiet voice that still commanded attention. "We're gonna be extra careful again. No; even _more_ careful than when you were havin' Warren." Joe glanced over to Warren, where he was shouting at an elderly man who was walking all the way across the road. Joe turned back to me and he had a fiery look of determination in his eyes. "We're not losing this baby too, okay?"

I nodded, feeling terrified at the thought of losing another child. If I did, I had no clue how in the hell I was supposed to recover.

* * *

In the fifties, everywhere I looked people were terrified of Communism. China was officially the most hated country, according to the United States. And with living in San Francisco, the "threat" of Communism was everywhere.

People were throwing around the word like it was a hot potato. Neighbors would call neighbors Communists or "Red Supporters" with little evidence backing it up. If a woman scorned a man's affections, she was a Communist. If someone didn't get the job they had wanted, their would-be employer was a Communist. Joe, working downtown, would hear about hate crimes. Stories about masked figures abducting and beating up Chinese, Japanese, Korean, anyone who looked Asian.

This put a giant target on Hana's back. My friend, already a housewife, now had to deal with teenagers throwing eggs at her front porch, women giving her sour looks in the grocery store, and basically every shitty person she came in contact with. Hana did her best to ignore them, but she said that she was really scared for her children.

Nancy and Ed were half American, half Japanese. Although their names sounded as American as American can be, they had their mother's look. On one Saturday afternoon, we had all gone down to the beach to relax for a bit. Warren and Victoria were playing with Marilyn and Nancy in the surf as it crashed into the little kids. Peter was building a sandcastle by himself close to us.

Bob stared off at the kids, watching his Japanese-looking children, either running around the waves or digging in the sand. Nancy was chasing after Warren, pretending to have cooties or something. Bob sighed heavily. "I hate this," He muttered. I looked at him sharply, not knowing what he was talking about. Hana apparently knew because she looked at him with a sort of sadness.

"What's that, Bob?" Duncan asked. Bob now had the whole group's attention.

Bob nodded at his two kids. "Nancy came home yesterday crying her eyes out. Her teacher showed the class a video on Communism, telling them that they should report anyone suspicious. And who looked suspicious in a class full of white kids? My Nancy." He clenched his fists. "Is it like this everywhere?" He looked at me when he asked this, knowing fully well that my family from Easy was literally all over the place.

I shook my head. "I have no idea." I said truthfully. "I don't think anyone's really mentioned it." Then again, I had no idea why any of the men from Easy would mention something about the new hatred for Communists and Chinese. None of them lived in a heavily populated Asian area like we did, and none of them were married to an Asian lady, like Bob. If anything, I was hearing about segregation unrest in Wetumpka from Mary.

The Korean War was still going on; we'd see countless men getting onto boats to head off to the Pacific. Between that and the threats of Communists, people were tense and worried, looking over their shoulders whether there was actually a threat or not.


	20. 20: Life

Jason Lynn Liebgott was born February twentieth in nineteen-fifty-three. The whole time, I was terrified, even more so than I had been when Warren was born. But, praise Jesus Christ, Jason was born perfectly healthy. The relief I felt smacked into me and I actually started crying out of pure joy that Jason had made it. Joe didn't cry with relief like I did, but he did spend a very long time holding onto his youngest son.

Eisenhower starts his run for president, so Joe and I immediately set out to vote for him. I remembered when I had briefly met the general of the United States, back in England. Both he and Churchill had been politely curious why I was there, risking my skin with the men. I remembered thinking that Eisenhower seemed honestly interested. I had told him that I was fighting for my country, and answer that Eisenhower and Churchill had both seemed to like.

Fifty-three proves to be a better year in more ways than one. First, Jason is born. Then, both Hana and June have two boys-named Edmund "Ed" Doyle and Ronald Calvert. The Korean War ends in July, flooding the San Francisco harbor with American soldiers once more. Eisenhower wins the presidential election, and he takes his new role as commander-in-chief.

Years go by, and I have two more children, in fifty-six and fifty-eight. Elizabeth got married to a Catholic boy who is two years younger than her. Jacob Covey is a great guy, someone who looked at my little sister like she was the only woman in the world.

Sally McCall, my bitch of a mother who constantly pushed me away and degraded both me and my husband, finally dies in nineteen-fifty-nine. She was sixty-six years old when the stomach cancer she had been suffering from finally took her life away. None of my kids knew her personally, she was just someone they knew I hated talking about. Warren and Victoria were the only ones who knew about my relationship with her. The others just knew her name and nothing else. Joe had met her briefly during Elizabeth's wedding, and his jaw had been set the whole time, looking pissed off by her presence.

I won't lie by saying that I was sad with her death. I definitely felt something there, but it wasn't sadness.

In nineteen-sixty, I was thirty-eight years old and a mother of five. Joe and I had been married for fourteen years, and throughout that time, we had both met with Easy on several occasions. Every time, everyone was thrilled to see each other, as if we were all nineteen, twenty, and twenty-one all over again, just a large group of young adults laughing and yelling at each other in the most playful and affectionate ways possible.

Guarnere invited Sobel to a few of the reunions, telling me that it would seem unfair if he was left out. No one was particularly happy to see Sobel show up (on the rare times he actually _did_ show up), but no one really fought him about it. Or really talk to him. Sobel mainly sat by himself looking awkward.

I spent a few uncomfortable minutes sitting with Sobel at a table in nineteen-sixty, and I could tell that he was just as uncomfortable to be around me. We remained like that until he coughed, clearing his throat. I sighed and glanced over at him; his black hair was now turning dark gray at the roots, and there were frown lines around his mouth. From what I had heard, he had served in the Korean War.

"Thanks," I said finally. Sobel gave a slight jerk, as if shocked by what I just said. I looked over to where Joe was standing with Martin and Webster; he was catching up with those two it looked like.

"Did you say something, McCall?" Sobel asked in a curt voice. I turned back to the man who had once made my life hell and repeated my brief thank you. Sobel blinked, looking completely off guard. "What for?"

I shrugged and gestured around to every man mingling. Guarnere and Babe were having an animated conversation with Toye. Winters, Nixon, Welsh, and Speirs were all sitting at the edge of crowd, drinking and talking away. Bull was smoking a cigar and laughing loudly at something Buck had just told him. "You turned us into this."

Sobel smirked in a mean way. "You're not warming up to me, are you?"

I laughed out loud, throwing his snide comment back in his face. "Hell, no. You're a prick, and I'm never gonna like you, but I know that you turned us into this company. So, for that, thanks." Sobel frowned and rolled his eyes before standing up and leaving me there. I snorted and stood up as well to go see what trouble Luz was bound to be getting himself in.

That same night, I had a long talk with Webster. The quiet and know-it-all boy from Toccoa had graduated from Harvard since leaving Easy. Now, he had dark stubble along his jawline and his eyes seemed to get brighter whenever he talked about what he was studying.

"I'm going on a expedition in a few months," Webster told me at some point.

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a drink from my beer. "Where to?"

"Somewhere in the Atlantic," Webster replied smoothly. "I'm going to go do more research for my next book."

"Is it 'bout sharks?"

"Yes ma'am," Webster said with a laugh. "And I'll be sure to send you and Liebgott a copy when it's finished."

I laughed at that. "Thank you in advance, Web."

Not even a year later, in early September of nineteen-sixty-one, I got a call from Winters, telling me that Webster's boat never came back when it was supposed to. Search parties had already gone out and come back, finding no trace of the man I had known from Toccoa. Easy gathered together once more in Webster's home of Santa Monica for the funeral.

It was an empty casket, but Webster still got his place in the military cemetery there. This was the first funeral Easy would attend, and I wanted nothing more but for it to be the last.


	21. 21: Teenagers

"Teenagers are gonna be the death of me," I said after swallowing a mouthful of beer. Joe snorted, almost choking on his own beer while Duncan let out a bark-like laugh. Hana muttered an amen, dealing with her own trio of kids.

Warren, once a little boy with skinned up knees who liked to follow me or Joe around all day just so that he could listen in on adult conversation, was now eighteen years old. He was graduating high school in June, and my oldest decided that now was the best time to start slacking. All month, I'd been getting calls from the high school telling me that he was fighting other boys, he was cutting class.

"I'm not doing anythin' you wouldn't want me doing." Warren told me and Joe the other night. "I'm not taking drugs!"

"Then why don't you just tell us what's going on?" Joe asked, his voice raising out of growing frustration. Warren rolled his eyes, his black hair grown out so that it fell into his eyes. He had his hair cut the way those guys from the Beatles had it, a band that both Warren and Vicky enjoyed immensely.

Whatever was going on with Warren, he was being tight-lipped about it. Vicky, on the other hand, was being as rebellious as a sixteen year old girl could get. The only problem in the matter was that she was basically me when I was sixteen.

When I was sixteen, I had finally started feeling the rejection Sally had been giving me. I finally started getting mad at her for being herself and I started doing whatever I could to make her mad on purpose. Vicky seemed to be doing something similar just because she could. If I told her she couldn't go to the mall with her friends, I'd find her bedroom empty with Sylvia looking stressed out from trying to keep her big sister's secret.

If my two oldest were frustrating me to no end, my three youngest were in the middle of a constant civil war between their older siblings and their parents. Jason, twelve and the leader of his group of neighborhood friends, was undoubtedly on Warren and Vicky's side. Unless I bribed him with sweets, he wouldn't even crack about what his brother and sister were up to. Bennett George Liebgott, on the other hand, was definitely on his parents' side. He reminded me more of Webster than he did of Luz, for whom I named him after. Poor Sylvia was the middle ground, some times telling me what was going on and other times keeping her mouth shut.

One night, around one o'clock in the morning, I woke up from one of my usual nightmares. I laid there in bed for a few minutes, feeling traumatized as always by seeing the women in Eindhoven all over again. I rolled to my side to glance at Joe and saw that he was still sound asleep. He muttered, "Fucking cat," in his sleep and I immediately wanted to know what the hell he was dreaming about.

I got out of bed, getting the urge to check in on my kids. I crept down the hallway and checked in the girls' room. On each twin bed, there were lumps underneath the blankets, telling me that both Vicky and Sylvia were both sound asleep. I closed their door quietly and went further down the hall to where all three boys shared a room. In the bunk beds, Jason and Bennett were both sound asleep, both snoring. I glanced over to the other bed and saw no one there.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," I hissed to myself after closing their door. Where the fuck could he be? I headed downstairs, knowing that Joe would start raising hell if I woke him up and reported to him that our oldest wasn't here. I got downstairs and checked the living room and kitchen, not finding Warren anywhere. I went to both doors leading outside the house and saw that the front door was unlocked. I cursed underneath my breath and sat down on the couch, preparing myself to wait for him to get home.

The clock on the wall ticked and ticked away until its hand went from pointing at the one to pointing at the three. My frustration kept growing, but that didn't stop my eyes from drooping from tiredness. First the nightmare, now my son not coming home; apparently I wasn't going to get any kind of sleep tonight.

I must've dozed off lightly because I was snapped back to being fully awake when I heard the front door close softly. I reached over to the side table and turned on the light. Warren stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me with alarm. I frowned at my son and stood up.

"Where have you been, Warren?" I asked. "D'you have any idea how worried I have been?"

Warren didn't answer right away, just looked at me blankly, trying to figure out what to say. Then he said, "I was out with some friends."

"Which friends?" I asked. He didn't answer and looked down to his feet. I sighed angrily, shaking my head at my son's recent rebellious streak. "Warren Joseph Liebgott, you've been disappearing after school, you're getting into fights at school. Your father and I have no idea-"

"I'm dating Nancy Doyle," Warren interrupted me. I looked up him, at his face that was so much like Joe's. Warren heaved a sigh. "We've been together since March."

It was almost June. I shook my head and narrowed my eyes at him, frustrated with the simplicity of his answer. "Why didn't you just _tell_ us what you were doin'?" I asked.

"Because you know how people around here treat anyone who looks Japanese," Warren said, anger and frustration forming on his face. "Especially with everyone scared of the Communists over in China. And I only fought at school because some assholes on the basketball team were calling Nancy a Commie."

"You know that your dad and I aren't like that. So that's a horrible excuse not to tell your parents anything. And that also doesn't explain the staying until three in the morning," I pointed out. Warren's face turned beet red in the half-light. It took me a fraction of a second to realize what my son had been doing with Nancy until three in the morning. I rolled my eyes upward, sending a silent prayer to God so that I could resist the urge to slap my son across the face. "Go to bed, Warren. We'll talk about this in the morning."

Warren nodded, his black hair flipping into his eyes. He hurried upstairs, wanting to leave the room before it got even more awkward.


	22. 22: Holding On and Letting Go

Warren graduated high school grounded. I had to tell Joe the reason Warren had been misbehaving for the last month or two, and Joe's reaction had been the same as mine: pissed of that the explanation was pretty damn simple and also that a girl was the reason Warren had been acting up.

"At least with you I knew how to keep myself in order!" Joe vented to me the night he found out. "Did I want to move things along, yes. But I didn't because I had some self control."

"I think I had some part in that decision too," I interrupted him. Warren, sitting in the room while we ranted at him, turned beet red again and muttered something about me and Joe being embarrassing. I glanced over to him. "Does Mr. and Mrs. Doyle know about you and Nancy?"

Warren hesitated before saying, "No." Joe and I both glared at him and I opened my mouth to say something, but Warren saw our expressions and cut across us. "You both know how strict Mrs. Doyle is about any of them dating. There's no way she'd let me and Nancy date!"

Was this what teenagers worried about nowadays? I pointed out Hana's exact rule to my son, using Hana's exact words: "When my kids are adults, _then_ they can worry about boys and girls." I narrowed my eyes at Warren. "'Adult' usually means over eighteen. How old is Nancy now?"

"She turns eighteen in a few days." Warren replied.

"Good; come forward then." I said sharply. "Just don't mention how you've been sleeping with their only daughter." Warren turned red again, completely embarrassed by the fact that his parents knew about his sex life.

Once Warren and Nancy both graduated, they did go up to Bob and Hana, explaining how long they had been together. They were both going to college in Los Angeles, something both sets of parents became nervous about. Bob and Hana didn't know about Warren and Nancy being together-together. They were just worried about their only daughter being far away from home. Joe, on the other hand, gave Warren a long talk about how he would kick his ass if he got Nancy pregnant.

When I watch my oldest walk across that stage to graduate high school and take his first steps towards college life, all of the shit Warren ever did flew out of my mind. Intense pride filled me up and I could not stop imaging him as the little boy who would make his own lemonade stand in front of our house and earn a meager amount of money.

That August, Warren leaves for college. Both Vicky and Sylvia cried over their big brother leaving, but Vicky made sure to hide her tears from the rest of us. Bennett hugged Warren's legs and almost didn't let him go. "I'm gonna be back for Hanukkah and Christmas!" Warren exclaimed. He bent down to give Sylvia a bear hug, crushing his younger sister in his arms.

Joe and I watched from a little ways away, seeing our oldest mingling with his siblings. I smirked to myself and nudged Joe with my elbow. "We made that. We made all of those."

He let out a loud laugh, "We did good. Let's hope he doesn't get anyone pregnant. If he does I'll beat his ass."

Warren left his crowd of younger siblings and approached me and Joe. He smiled broadly at the both of us, a toothy grin he had inherited from Joe. He shook his dad's hand with an amazing amount of strength, "Thanks, Dad." Warren said. Joe smiled back without meaning to and slapped his son's shoulder.

"Remember what I said about the real world," Joe muttered.

"Not everyone's as friendly as Easy?" Warren asked, repeating something I had often heard Joe tell our kids whenever we heard something on the radio about hate crimes and shitty people in general. My kids grew up around the men of Easy and their families; they knew for a fact that no one from Easy would do such a thing. Joe nodded in agreement and hugged Warren briefly.

Warren then turned to me and I forced myself not to start crying right there. Warren easily brought me into his arms and hugged me. "I love you, Mama." Warren muttered. When he pulled away, it took everything I had to let him go. "Thanks for everything." My eyes started to sting and I wiped the unshed tears away before they could fall.

The taxi finally showed up and my oldest boy got in it with his large suitcase, to go start his own life.

* * *

A few weeks later, the rest of my kids go back to school. Vicky was in her junior year of high school, Jason was now a seventh grader, Sylvia a fifth grader, and Bennett in second. I had at least one kid in each school, something that June and Hana both praised me for.

"Ronald is twelve years old and he's already turning my hair gray." June said one day, fingering through her roots. They were still platinum blond, so I had no idea what she was talking about. I thought about her youngest boy, who also had inherited his mother bright blond hair and big blue eyes. He was always around with Jason and Hana's youngest, Ed. Those boys were always together, and the friendship they had with each other, reminded me of what men from Easy had, still have.

The sixties was the decade where two of my kids graduated high school. One look around would tell anyone that the world had changed so damn much since when I was a teenager. A British band called the Beatles were the most popular musical group right now (Vicky had pictures from magazines of them pinned up on her wall). John F. Kennedy was assassinated in sixty-three, and I can remember making dinner when I first heard. I almost set the kitchen on fire.

According to Mary, there were several civil rights movements going on right in Montgomery. Rodger and Anna, both already out of high school, both went to a rally in Montgomery with caution to listen to Martin Luther King Jr give a speech.

Vicky also started showing an interest in the civil rights movement. One night after dinner, she asked me, "Did you ever notice how African Americans were treated, Mama? You lived down there. Aunt Mary had that maid working for her forever!"

I thought about it for a long moment. "Honestly, Vicky, I never really thought about it. I had lived in the South my whole life, until I joined the Army. Eugenia was always treated like a member of the family. To me, and to everyone else down there at the time, it was just normal." Vicky looked like she was thinking about this for a long time, but she remained silent and got the same look on her face that I did whenever we were thinking of something hard.

Throughout all of this, there's a war going on in Vietnam. Troops begin to head out once more, and we're able to, once again, watch young men head off to war through our harbor. Joe and I continue our tradition of walking past the harbor every week, and we stop after a bit to watch a few companies load onto the ship to go to war.

In our day, there'd be a massive crowd of people cheering soldiers on, wishing them good luck, and praying to them that they'll come back home. But these boys were dealing with something else entirely.

These boys were being sent off with protesters. Teenagers and young adults crowded the harbor, holding picket signs and shouting that our government should stay out of Vietnam. I actually saw one boy-looking about seventeen years old-screaming horrible things at a soldier who was walking by. I remembered what it was like being sent off to England in New York City, and how the crowds, although confused by my presence there, sent me off with the men as if I was already a war veteran.

That night, while Sylvia is downstairs working on her homework, I knocked on Vicky's door and waited for her to answer. When she did, I came inside and closed the door behind me.

"Mom? What's up?" Vicky asked, frowning slightly at me. I sat down on her bed right beside her. Vicky frowned even more at me and a look of concern crossed her face. "Who died? Is Gramma dead? Is someone from Easy dead?" She let out a small gasp. "Please don't tell me any of the uncles are dead."

"No one's dead; calm down honey." I said, cutting her off. "I just wanted to ask you if you knew anyone who's protesting the Vietnam war?"

Vicky blanched for a second, and after a moment she nodded. "Um, Stella Campbell and Felix Kuznicki are protesting. They're trying to get others to do it to." She hesitated before adding, "They're getting a lot of their friends to join in."

"Warren called and said that his college campus had an entire group protestin' the war." I said. "He said that Nancy's thinking about joining them, but they're both hesitating. They both come from military families so I understand that hesitation."

She nodded a bit. "I mean, the way Felix has been talking about soldiers is horrible. He says they're all terrible people. And every time I hear that, I think about Uncle George and Uncle Don and _all_ of them." She hesitated. "I think about you and Dad. I know neither of you like talking about it, and I can't even imagine what it was like over there. But you and Dad are good people: you're not cruel to Mrs. Doyle, you love each other; Stella's parents fight all the time!"

I watched her talk, feeling touched about her opening up this way. Vicky paused for a second before adding, "You and Dad and Easy are some of the best people I've ever known."

"Thank you for that, Vicky," I said softly. I wrapped an arm around my daughter and squeezed her tightly. Vicky squirmed and said something about me being embarrassing.


	23. 23: Drafted and Volunteering

When Vicky graduates high school, she gets a scholarship to the same exact college I went to. She loved medicine and had always wanted to become a doctor. The second she walks across that stage, I feel so proud of my daughter who, according to everyone around me, had turned into a dark-haired version of me. And once two kids are out of the house, the remaining three started going through their own changes.

Jason was now the oldest, and my hotheaded son finally had a reign over his younger siblings. I caught Bennett actually attempting to do Jason's homework at one point. When I questioned Bennett as to why he agreed to do it, my youngest just shrugged and said that Jason promised to buy him candy from the sweet shop right next to the school.

"Has Jason ever bought you any candy?" I asked.

Bennett frowned for a bit, a dimple popping up from between his eyebrows. "He said he'll get me a big bag full if I do a lot of his homework."

If Vicky and I didn't get along sometimes for being too similar, then Joe and Jason definitely didn't get along because they were too similar. According to Mrs. Liebgott (last time she visited us for Hanukkah) Jason was the exact image of Joe when he was fifteen. Already Jason was taller then me and was starting to reach his father's height. With the rate he was going, he'd probably end up taller than Joe.

Ron and Ed from next door were apparently no better with their parents. June would call me crying about Ron got himself in big trouble at school; mouthing off to his teacher or something like that. That or he'd be cutting class until the school suspended him. Duncan tried grounding his son, but the boy with his mother's looks just kept sneaking out to get into even more trouble.

"You're the oldest out of those three," I pointed out to Jason one night before dinner. "You ever think you could use your leadership skills to help him out?"

Jason just rolled his eyes. "Ron doesn't listen to anyone. If he does, it's to do the _opposite_ of what you said."

That sounded like hell, I couldn't help but think. I had known that boy from the time he was a newborn baby; I knew that there was some kind of good inside of him, but he was burying that deep down. A few years later, before the boy even turned eighteen, Ron Calvert was drafted for the Vietnam War.

Jason had told me and Joe, looking shell-shocked about it. "Ron's going to basic training the week after he turns eighteen. He's younger than me-"

Ron was just a month younger than Jason. And yet it was him who was being called off to war. I went next door to June's house right after I heard the news, and my friend responded by bursting into tears and falling in a heap into my arms.

It seemed to me, by this point in my life, that your children are destined to break your heart in one way or another. With every set of parents I came in contact with, their kids had either done something idiotic that made sense to them, or had accidentally hurt their parents in one way or another. Or maybe it was just something random that happened and the children just happened to get caught in.

Hana once called me crying one night, telling me that Pete has told her that her native accent will always mark as someone fresh off the boat and a foreigner. The next day I walk with Hana along the beach close to our neighborhood. "Sometimes he's as unpleasant as a fish left out in the sun. Bobby talks about how he is a bird wanting to fly from the nest. He is my son and I love him, but sometimes I find myself wishing he would hurry and leave. Go! Go, and take your stinkiness with you!"

Jason Lynn Liebgott at eighteen is the image of his father when I first met Joe. Tall, lanky, with dark black hair and hazel eyes. Their personalities were the same as well. Jason was eighteen and hot-headed, stubborn, and arrogant enough to think that he didn't need his parents' protection. Joe had some of these similarities, but he had the patience that Jason lacked. He knew about the pair of us being World War Two veterans, and he had always had a fiery and burning respect and admiration for the men of Easy who visited often. When he was young, he'd follow Guarnere and Toye around, ambition and respect burning in his eyes whenever he looked at them. Jason loved the way Luz made him laugh and how Winters and Malarkey carried themselves. One look at any of those men told my son that they were soldiers and people worth others' respect.

So I guess I shouldn't have been so shocked when Jason came home right after his eighteenth birthday, telling us about how he volunteered for the Army.

Joe stared at Jason with flames rising in his eyes. "You did what?" He asked, his voice rising slowly. I turned to Sylvia and Bennett, telling them to leave the kitchen. My youngest kids obeyed immediately and Joe started pacing furiously. "D'you have any fucking idea what you just did? You're going to Vietnam!"

"I know," Jason said in a monotone voice. Visions of Europe and carnage filled my mind. Faces like Hoobler, Meehan, Penkala, Jackson, and Skip filled my mind. The boys I gone to war with, the boys who never saw the world without war. Tears came to my eyes unwillingly and I bent my head, hating the fact that my son was seeing my tears. Jason looked slightly guilty for making me cry, but he continued to face us with that arrogance and pride-the same kind Joe and I both had when we joined the Army.

"It's not like I'm the only one in the neighborhood going," Jason said. "Ed volunteered too. And you know that Ron was drafted, so he'll be with us!"

"Somehow I doubt that their parents are happy with this decision." I said, almost to myself.

"I'm going to be helping my country!" Jason argued. "You two did it-"

"And look what it got us, Jason!" Joe shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "You have no idea what you signed up for; we didn't." On and on it went. Joe and Jason remained at each other's throat until Joe sent Jason up to his room.

"I'm eighteen," Jason growled. He had turned red in the face. "I'm going to basic training; you can't order me around like Ben or Sylvia!"

"Until you go off to training, you still live under our roof." Joe snapped. "Get your ass upstairs. That's an order." Jason glared at his dad once more before stalking away. I wiped my eyes hard, pain living in my chest. Joe glared at the door where Jason disappeared before sitting down next to me. "Fucking war," He muttered, shaking his head and looking defeated.

Jason and Ron leave for basic training the same day. They're both Army boys now, and they're both being sent out to Vietnam. June is worried sick, her youngest son leaving to risk his skin unwillingly. Bob had the same reaction to Ed's volunteering that Joe had to Jason's. He had fought in the Pacific; he had seen war the same way Joe and I had. The week after Ed turns eighteen, he's sent off to basic as well.

Our three families get letters from our sons, telling us about basic and their fellow soldiers. According to Jason, a lot of boys there were drafted and didn't want to be there. And then we get the news that Ed was randomly selected to be a combat medic for their company. This sends us parents into a new flurry of worry. And the fact that a boy I had known since infancy was going to end up just like me, constantly on the front lines with the lives of every man in his hands, sent me into more nightmares that I hadn't experienced in years. I suddenly got to see the men I had lost and I always ended up waking up in a cold sweat.

One night, June, Hana, and I are sitting my backyard. Bennett was spending the night with a friend, and Sylvia was up in her room with her friend from school, Peggy. The husbands were inside, drinking and doing the same as us: talking quietly about their sons going to war.

"Diana," June said quietly, slowly. "I know I've never asked you about the war before. And trust me, I _hate_ bringing this up to you. But what was it like?"

I twiddled my thumbs for a minute before saying, "As a medic, I was on the frontlines all the time. Bullets are being shot at you, kicking up dust at your feet. All around you, you hear the others screaming for help, screaming for a medic. I've seen more blood and fire then I ever want to see again." I paused. "I heard someone on the T.V say that war brings out the worst in people, and that's true, but I say that it also brings out who you really are. Are you gonna risk yourself to help someone else, or are you gonna stay away and hide yourself out of fear? I can only describe it as hell."


	24. 24: Letters to Soldiers

In a way, I guess our families are lucky that our boys were all assigned to the same company. It was a rare thing, but it was lucky. When they all left basic training for Vietnam, every one of us were at the San Francisco harbor, keeping our eyes peeled for familiar faces.

It was Bennett, sitting up on Joe's shoulders, who spotted them. "Jason!" Bennett shouted, pointing at where Jason was walking with Ron and Ed on either side of him. Jason lifted his head and pointed us out to Ron and Ed, and all three of them smiled at us. I felt myself stricken, seeing already how drastically my son had physically changed over the course of a few weeks. Eventually, they were all made to turn away from us and board the ship.

Joe kept an iron grasp on my hand, squeezing it until I could no longer feel my fingers.

Bob, being the only one of us veterans who was stationed in the Pacific, became everyone's source of information. He told us about living in Melbourne, Australia for a little bit before going to an island called Pavuvu. "Our boys won't be doing that." Bob said. "They'll probably be in Australia for a little bit, and then they'll go somewhere closer to Vietnam."

I remembered living in England until we were sent out to the frontlines, and I figured that the same would happen to Jason with Australia. I started spending a lot more time in the nearest Catholic church, praying to God and Jesus Himself if he could look out for all of those young boys going overseas.

A few weeks after the boys left basic training (around the time they should've been in Australia), I flipped through the mail, seeing the usual: bills, a postcard from Bill Guarnere (he was vacationing in England with his family), and then a letter from an Army base in Australia. I read the name of the sender, and was very surprised to see that it was Ed Doyle. I half expected the letter to have been accidentally sent to us, but it was our address, with Sylvia's name on it.

Sylvia thundered down the stairs right as I made this discovery. Her dark brown, almost black hair, was tied into a ponytail, a bright red ribbon tied around the base. Sylvia saw that I had a letter in my hands and she blanched. I raised one eyebrow at her before handing it to her. "This is apparently yours," I said slowly, waiting for her to start explaining. Instead, she snatched the letter from my hand and dashes back upstairs as fast as her short legs can carry her.

What the hell?

I wait an hour before going upstairs to Sylvia's room. Joe had just gotten home, and he was currently distracted by Bennett's science homework. I didn't tell him about Ed's letter to Sylvia, knowing fully well that any sort of military letter was personal, and if my daughter didn't want me to know about it, she most certainly didn't want her protective and military dad to know.

After knocking of her door, I hear Sylvia's quiet voice telling me to come in. I entered and closed the door behind me, finding Sylvia sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands folded in her lap. I sat beside her and we were in silence for a long moment. Finally, I said, "So, Ed Doyle."

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. I smirked at the back of her head. "Hey, I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying that I didn't think he was your type."

Sylvia came back up after I say that. She narrowed her bright green eyes, getting that look on her face that I recognized as my own. "We're not together, Mama. He just wants someone to write while he's away."

"His family can't write him?" I asked. "Hell, I think Jason would write him if he wasn't already there." Sylvia blushed severely. Before I can say anything else, she stood up and reached underneath her bed. She comes back up with a shoe box and she pulled off the lid, revealing a giant stack of letters. I widened my eyes, taken off guard. Sylvia watched my expression carefully. I made a move to read one, but Sylvia slammed the lid back on before I even pick one up.

"You can't read any of them." She said. "These letters are for me and only me."

"That something Ed told you?"

"No; something I want for myself." Sylvia said, that firm expression still on her face. I shrugged and smiled at her all the same.

"Alrighty then," I said, standing up to leave. "I won't tell your father either. He'd probably freak out if he knew." Sylvia nodded solemnly, as if she had already imagined every possible scenario with Joe finding out. I started to leave, but hesitated and turned back to Sylvia. "Can I just ask how all this started?"

She hesitated too before answering. "After he and Jason volunteered, all three of them were hangin' out in Jason and Benny's room. I was in the kitchen and Ed came down for a drink. We talked a bit and he asked me then." Her face turned a soft red when she thought back on it. I smirked slightly, understanding her feelings towards the boy next door. I left her then, giving my daughter the privacy she needed to read Ed's letter and write back.

What was it with those Doyle kids that my kids found irresistible? First Warren with Nancy, and now Sylvia and Ed.

Speaking of which, I didn't get much of a warning when Warren called and told us that he proposed to Nancy. Hell, I barely had time to respond to that particular sentence before Warren announced that she said yes right off the bat. They were both twenty-four years old, the same age I was when I married Joe. Apparently when Warren called to break the good news to us, Nancy did the same with her parents.

Hana rushed next door and embraced me the second I answered. Bob followed her a tad more slowly, but he still looked incredibly happy with the fact that his only daughter had found someone to be with. And he liked Warren, so that made it easier on him.

That December, all of the kids who went off to college came home. Nancy showed us the ring that Warren had given her, and I joked about how Warren got the money for that kind of ring. Marilyn, June's oldest, cried with happiness for her childhood friend. Sylvia and Vicky both expressed glee for getting a new sister.

As for me, I was ecstatic to be getting another daughter.


	25. 25: The Moment I Knew

I have no idea what Sylvia and Ed are writing to each other about, but I do know that every other day she's either getting a letter from him or she's sending one out for him to receive. I tried to intercept them from Joe as much as I could; if I found the letter from Ed, I'd put it right on Sylvia's bed so that she could find it. But Joe was extremely smart, and it took him about a week to figure out that I was being possessive over getting the mail.

"D'you have some secret lover you write to?" Joe asked one night, smirking in a way that said he was joking but there was a light in his eyes that looked like he was stressed. He had been driving his cab around lately, along with his usual job of barber. "Anyway to help out 'round the house," Joe said when I asked him about it.

For a moment, I was tempted to tell him about Sylvia and Ed, but I wouldn't unless Sylvia let me know that it was okay. I stood up and walked up to Joe from behind and wrapped my arms around him. His body relaxed the second I tightened my arms around him, and I could literally feel the tense stress that was in his shoulders.

"You got nothing to worry about, Joe." I said into his shoulders. Joe glanced behind to look down at me, a faint smile on his face.

Sylvia actually started coming to me for advice on what to say to Ed about dealing with the war. "He tells me about what it's like being a medic." She said. "Ed said that it's really hard, yet at the same time, it's startin' to become natural to him."

I nodded a bit. "Yeah, I can relate to that. When you first start off as a medic, it's hard to fall into but then, after a while, it's second nature to put others in front of yourself." Sylvia nodded at that, looking like she was thinking really hard about what Ed's role in the war added up to.

On the news, the anchorman started to put out lists of local Vietnam soldiers of died in action or who went missing in action. Every evening, he'd get that sad expression and list out the men who were missing, most likely in prisoner-of-war camps being ran by the enemy. And then he'd list out the list of local Vietnam dead. Every night, Joe and I would watch the news and listen intently to those lists, straining our ears for any familiar names.

But so far, we don't hear the names we've been dreading to hear.

* * *

In July of nineteen-seventy-two, Warren and Nancy get married. A few members of Easy showed up, bringing their own wives and children. On several times, I spotted Vicky checking out Perconte's son, even though she thought she was being discreet. Before the ceremony even started, my brothers were teasing Warren.

"It's not too late to go jumpin' outta planes, kiddo!" Luz said, slapping Warren on the shoulder. Warren had grown taller than Luz, so this sight in itself was amusing.

When it's actually time for the ceremony to begin, I'm swelling with pride when I see my son stand at the alter, waiting for his bride to come to him. And then, with Bob right beside her, Nancy comes out wearing all white. Hana started to cry, dabbing at her dark eyes with a handkerchief. Nancy's younger brother, Peter, has replaced his usual scowl for a look of happiness for his big sister.

After the ceremony, the reception takes place in the same hotel common room where Easy had met up when Joe and I got married. Warren and Nancy shared their first dance, and they looked at each other like there was no one else in the world.

I desperately wanted Jason and Ed to be here too, so they could see this too. If Jason was here, he'd be flirting with any bridesmaid he could, or even with some of Easy's daughters, seeing how he already knew all of them. As for Ed, I had a strong feeling he'd be with Sylvia all night. My younger daughter dances whenever a boy asks her, but even I can see that she's not into any of them.

"You feelin' old yet?" Joe asked me at some point. I laughed at him and nudged his arm.

"You're seven years older than me; _you're_ the one who should be feelin' old." I pointed out.

Joe snorted loudly. "I'm not gonna feel old until my hair turns white." I didn't point out how his dark black hair had gotten considerably lighter. His roots were turning dark gray and he had the beginnings of wrinkles edging around his eyes. Physically, he had changed a lot from the snarky boy I had met in Toccoa. But he was still the man who'd drop the word "fuck" without thinking about it, the man who had woken me up from too many nightmares, the man who had loved me enough to come back for me after we should've gone our separate ways.

I reached over and grabbed Joe's hand and squeezed it. Joe narrowed his hazel eyes slightly and smirked, but didn't pull away.

* * *

Warren and Nancy end up going to Florida for their honeymoon. Vicky disappeared for a while after the wedding and she didn't come home until eleven at night. I raised an eyebrow at her but she didn't say where she was. I was sitting on the couch with Sylvia right beside me. Bennett had fallen asleep on the way home, so Joe was tucking him into bed. Sylvia was writing a letter out, and I didn't have to ask because I knew it was for Ed.

"I'm telling him about the wedding," Sylvia said. "He said he wants a lot of details about it, because he couldn't be here."

"D'you have any idea where he is right now?" I asked.

Sylvia sighed and shook her head. "He usually writes the address as 'somewhere in the jungle', or 'on some damn island'." She gave me a side glance when she said the word "damn". When I don't reprimand her, she looked back down to the piece of paper, her handwriting already all over it. She paused for a long time before looking over to me, nervousness all over her face. "Hey, Mama, can I ask you something?"

"Yes ma'am," I said, not letting it show how much my nerves went up when Sylvia asked that question.

Sylvia opened her mouth and then closed it again. She looked to be really struggling with what she was about to say. I offered her a small smile, trying to coax her out. Sylvia nodded, almost to herself and said, "How did you know you loved Daddy?"

Oh.

The question stumped me for a moment, and I found myself frowning and really thinking hard about it. I then started to talk, picking my words carefully. "For the longest time, I don't think I knew it. Your dad and I were good friends going into the war; we joked around and picked on each other occasionally, but so did everyone else. Uncle George was probably the first one who figured out that Joe and I were more than just friends." I paused, thinking about how Luz had once told me that it was only himself and Skip who knew about me and Joe.

My daughter is listening with wide eyes, taking in every word. I smiled softly and out of the corner of my eye, I see Vicky at the top of the stairs, holding very still and listening as well. I looked back to Sylvia, knowing that she wouldn't like it if she knew that Vicky was listening in too.

"I don't think it was until Dad got hit in the neck, you know that scar right here?" I rubbed my finger on the side of my neck, around the same area where Joe's old scar was. Sylvia's eyes tracked my movement and nodded. "I was so scared that he was gonna die. We got the bleeding to stop, but he still needed to leave back for England so that he could get it fixed. The moment he left, I realized that I missed him so damn much.

"We were sent to a forest called Bastogne after that, and for the first few days, it was just me and the rest of the uncles." I said. "And the second I saw Dad get off the jeep to rejoin Easy, I knew just how much I missed him and how much pain I would've felt if he died. His absence made me feel that; his life on the line twenty-four-seven made me realize that he was the particular soldier that I just couldn't lose."


	26. 26: The Kids Aren't Alright

With Jason and his friends over in Vietnam, my biggest fear becomes a soldier knocking on our door to tell us that Jason has been killed in battle. There are reports flooding in from everywhere about American soldiers becoming prisoners of war and serving in work camps. Every time someone knocks on our door, I flinch and answer it. All the while, I'm praying to every deity there is that it's not the news that my son has been taken as prisoner or killed.

Warren and Nancy are only married for two months before they announce that they're pregnant. I nearly choked on my iced tea when I first heard, and following that was the usual tears and several minutes of extreme happiness for my son and daughter-in-law. Warren eventually pulled me aside and said, "Nancy actually got pregnant right before the wedding. We just waited until we were sure before telling anyone."

I lightly slapped my son's arm but I couldn't pretend to be upset with him at all. And now, with two kids still in grade school, I tried to wrap my head around becoming a grandmother...

At this point in time, Sylvia was sixteen and Bennett was thirteen. When I told Malarkey about Warren going to be a father, he laughed for a minute before saying, "Damn Di, you and Joe have got your lives on fast forward. I can't even get my kids to think about settling down! You're gonna be the youngest grandma I've ever known!"

"Thanks, Malark," I said, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see me. Warren and Nancy got a small house at the edge of the city, just big enough for them and their unborn child. Vicky was living in an apartment with some of her friends from college.

My appearance had changed drastically since I first left home when I was nineteen. Back then, my hair had been very auburn; now it was starting to lighten and turn gray around the roots. Joe's hair itself was finally becoming speckled with gray all over the place.

"Let's face it, Di," Joe said. "We are old."

I snorted. "Feels like yesterday we were marching 'round Europe." At that, Joe huffed and stretched out on the bed, making it creak with his movement. He lit a cigarette and started puffing, the smoke drifting lazily up into the air.

On one day in December, just a few days before another year came around, Vicky was visiting and was telling me about a policeman she had met through a friend from class. Joe was listening with narrowed eyes and was frowning slightly. I waved him off and gave him a look that told him not to worry about it. Bennett was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the coffee table and writing in a notebook. He enjoyed writing, but he wouldn't allow anyone else to read his work.

Sylvia was curled up in the corner of the couch, reading a book called _The Winds of War._ It had been a Christmas present sent in from Malarkey, who had thought it'd be a nice present for my book-loving daughter. The book followed a Navy officer and his family all throughout World War Two, and it was supposed to have a sequel coming out in a few years.

We had the news playing in the background, just a hum of noise behind what we were actually doing. From what I could gather, the news broadcaster was talking about a local story about how firemen had saved an old lady from a burning building.

There was a sudden knock on the front door and everyone immediately froze. What felt like ice water poured over me as I looked quickly to the clock to see what time it was. It was eight at night; who else would come at this hour?

Joe locked eyes with me before setting his jaw and moving to the door. My four kids remained frozen, and Vicky reached over and grasped my hand tightly. Joe hesitated before answering the door, and from over his shoulder I saw the two men in their nice Army uniforms.

I felt extremely faint all of a sudden, as if I was about to faint at that second. But I forced myself to watch the men frown slightly at Joe before glancing over his shoulder to the rest of us.

"Is this the residence of Robert and Hana Doyle?" One of them asked.

Oh no. The two Army men left to go right next door, and for a long moment Joe wasn't able to move from the door. Vicky's hold on my hand was so tight that I could no longer feel my fingers. I turned to Sylvia and saw my daughter's face the color of ash, her green eyes wide and terrified. And then we hear them.

We hear the screams and cries of Hana Doyle from right next door.

* * *

Hana told me and June two days later how, apparently, Ed had been carrying one of his men off of the frontlines when an enemy soldier shot him right in the back. The bullet hadn't killed him on impact, instead it had been a hollow-pointed bullet made of wood, so that it shattered and splintered the second it hit him. One of the shards hit the lumbar artery and Ed bled internally for three hours before he finally died.

Ed had been a combat medic like me; we had both lived in the same environment. In a different world, maybe he'd be the one to live. The man from the Army had told Bob and Hana that Ed had been saving another man's life when he got hit. Hana stopped talking after that, her eyes filling up with tears and her voice getting so thick that it was physically impossible for her to talk anymore.

Sylvia withdrew into herself, staying up in her room for days at a time, only leaving to go to the bathroom. At first, Joe and her siblings were really confused as to why she was having this strong of a reaction, but then I finally came clean. Vicky started visiting more often to sit in that room with Sylvia, talking to her in the way that only a sister can do.

I was in Sylvia's room with her so that I could get her dirty laundry (there was much less of that now) when Sylvia crawled out of bed and brought out the shoe box from underneath her bed. She sat the box down on the bed and looked up at me.

"You can read them if you want," She said. I blinked at her and seriously debated taking the letters. But I gave her a sad smile and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"They're yours," I said. "What you and Ed said to each other, needs to stay between you two."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she looked so miserable. I felt my heart break for her when she said in a cracked voice, "But he's gone."

"And?" I asked. "I still have photographs of some of my friends from Easy, the ones who never made it back." This was completely true. A few years after the war ended, Joe and I got some old pictures of training back in Toccoa. Someone had gotten a picture of me, Malarkey, and Skip after dinner. The three of us were standing outside of the mess hall. In the picture, Skip and I were nineteen and Malarkey was twenty.

I snapped myself out of my thoughts and looked back to Sylvia. "Just because he's gone, doesn't mean you need to forget about him. Hold on to those letters, and don't let anyone see them unless you truly want them to."

Sylvia blinked, looking stricken. But she nodded anyway and put the shoe box back underneath her bed. I finished picking up her dirty clothes and left the room.


	27. 27: Night Terror

Warren and Nancy named their son Joseph Edmund Liebgott. I get to hold my first grandson, and the reality of my own age finally hit me at full force. Here I was, about to turn fifty-one, with five kids and one new grandchild. I could finally agree with Joe that we were old, and that the world had changed since we had gone off to war.

The Vietnam War finally ended in seventy-five, four years after Jason went off in the first place. America suffered a major defeat, with troops withdrawing like dogs after a beating. The San Francisco harbor is once again filled with soldiers coming home, and they are once again greeted by protesters. Vicky actually got into a fist fight with one girl because she had screamed that all soldiers were "pieces of shit". Vicky had knocked the girl to the ground and left a good bruise on the side of her face. I suddenly wished that I had let her borrow Toye's brass knuckles.

Every day after the men start coming home, our neighborhood group go to the harbor together to witness each ship and to see if Jason and Ron were finally here. Bob and Hana came along as well, though the pain they still felt for Ed's loss was clearly etched on their faces. I stayed close to Hana, brushing against her occasionally to let her know that we were all still there.

When Sylvia comes along, her face is pale from the lack of sunlight and she has bags underneath her eyes, telling me how little sleep she's been getting. Her hair is simply tied up into a bun to hide the dirtiness and she can't seem to get enough energy to clean herself. I help out as much as I can by bringing a bucket of hot water into her room and wiping her face and underarms down as much as I can with very little help from her.

Depression, in the form of my daughter, made me want to end the amount of pain that she was feeling.

On a bright and sunny Thursday, we all walk to the harbor to greet the incoming ship. It was now a month after the war had ended, and we were all still waiting for our sons to come home. And then, finally, Duncan spots them.

"Holy shit," Duncan muttered before pointing out Ron and Jason to the rest of us. I didn't even take in Jason's appearance before running towards him, June right on my heels.

"Mama?" Jason asked right before I crashed into him. I wrapped my arms around him, forcing him into a hug. I didn't have to for long though, as he quickly hugged me right back, a new strength in his arms and his hug instantly reminded me of when Guarnere always tried to hug me to death. I held him for as long as I could before letting him go so that the rest of his family could say hello for the first time in four years.

 _Now_ I took the time to see how much Jason had changed within four years.

He had gone from eighteen to twenty-two, and in that time he had turned out to look even more like Joe. His hair had grown out slightly from a recent buzz cut, and he had the beginnings of black stubble on his face. Jason's arms, once holding wiry strength, were now larger and looked like he could carry his own father on his shoulders. Jason finally let go of his siblings and looked away from us and to Bob and Hana, where they were standing a little ways away.

Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of dog tags. He walked over to the Doyles and stopped right in front of Hana. I was close enough to hear him say, "Ed wanted you to have his tags." He personally handed Hana the tags, and her black eyes filled with tears. Jason looked like someone had just punched him in the gut. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Doyle." Jason's voice cracked.

Hana reached out and hugged him, now fully crying. Ed's dog tags were clenched in her fist. Bob's eyes were filled with tears and he rubbed his wife's back, letting her know that he was there. Joe was at my side in an instant, looking misty eyed but not letting himself cry. I knew that he'd do that later when only I could see him.

That night, after Vicky had gone home and my youngest kids had gone to bed, I remained awake, not able to sleep simply because of images of Landsberg and Bastogne and Carentan. Joe, after lying awake in bed for the longest time, managed to fall into a light sleep. I watched him for a little bit before getting up and starting for the living room, where I could sit down in the light without disturbing Joe.

A piercing scream shot through the air right as I made it to the stairs and I wheeled back around and bolted into Jason and Bennett's bedroom. Bennett had shot up in bed, looking horrified while Jason thrashed in bed, trapped in whatever nightmare he was stuck in.

I bolted over and shook Jason roughly until he was torn awake. The overhead light turned on and I realized that Joe had woken up and had turned on the light. Jason stared around at his surroundings and he had bright tears glistening in his eyes. His skin looked pale and he was visibly shaking like a leaf. Then, my poor veteran of a son sat up and wrapped his arms around me, clinging onto me just he like he used to whenever he was a scared little boy.

Joe and I locked eyes and we managed to communicate without even saying anything. He knew that I wouldn't be getting any sleep that night, so Joe took Bennett from the room and set the sixteen year old up in the living room. Once they were gone, Jason started talking.

"I saw them," He muttered quietly. "I fell asleep and saw them coming out of the jungle at us. Ed was going off to-to go get Trager...That's when he got hit-"

I shushed him softly. "It's alright now. You're thousands of miles from them and you're home now. You both are." Jason squeezed his eyes tightly at that and his body jerked as he tried to hold in his sobs. I advised him not to, keeping my voice steady and quiet. "It's best to let it out, Jason. Believe me, it'll get worse if you hold onto it."

I held onto him until he fell asleep, keeping my son in my arms until he was finally relaxed enough to go back to bed. Even then, I didn't leave the room. I turned off the overhead light and turned on Bennett's bedside lamp. I sat on Bennett's bed and read a book called _Watership Down_ by the lamp. Sylvia had told me that it was a book about rabbits, but it was a very messed up book about rabbits.

Jason would wake up like this every night for the next several weeks. It became so much of a pattern that Bennett would automatically set up his bed downstairs on the couch and I'd fall into a light sleep until Jason woke up screaming. Joe and I even took turns waking up going to sit with Jason until he felt better. According to June, she was doing something similar with Ron.

I was reminded of how Mary used to wake up with me whenever I had nightmares. Seeing my son is this constant pain made me realize how much pain Mary must've gone through to see go through this. I called my older sister and told her all about Jason's night terrors, and she said how grateful she was that Leonard wasn't able to go. My nephew had apparently tried to, but his feet were flat so the Army "had no use" for him.

As odd as it seemed, I was instantly grateful for my experience with the Army. Whenever Jason wakes up from a nightmare, I know exactly how to calm him back down, I know what to say to him to make him calmer. I guess, in that way, Jason is lucky to have two veteran parents who personally knew what he had experienced.


	28. 28: Goner

Life has a way of slowing down certain times in your life, and then speeding forward in a split second.

Vicky got married to that cop friend of hers, and her last name changes from Liebgott to Prescott. They move off to northern California together, to start their own family away from San Francisco. Jason met a military girl named Winnie who had been stationed in Australia. Sylvia, bless her heart, finally got out of her depression with the help of a friend of Ron's. His name is Dylan Miles and they date for about a year before getting married. Bennett ends up marrying his high school sweetheart.

Between my five kids, I end up with eleven grandchildren. Warren and Bennett both had three kids, Vicky and Sylvia both had two, and Jason just wanted the one. It's not long before my hair turns gray from chasing around my grandchildren.

Joe and I attend more funerals for Easy, and they never get any easier. Grant and Talbert both die in the early eighties, and I ended up standing right next to Speirs during Grant's. I remembered how Speirs had torn through Austria to find a surgeon for Grant, and that feat alone had prolonged Grant's life by decades.

Duncan Calvert died in a car accident in the late eighties, killed by a drunk driver. June was beside herself, not knowing what to do half the time and no longer able to pay the bills of her house. Duncan had been the only working force int he house, never June. She ended up selling the house next door and she moved in with her daughter Marilyn, who lived right on the bay. We still got to see each other every week (Hana and I made sure of that), but June was never the same after Duncan died.

In the summer of ninety-one, forty-five years since we got married, Joe started to cough up blood. He'd start by having a coughing fit that would somehow end up with him coughing up small chunks of the stuff. He tried to play it off as if nothing was wrong, but the second I saw it, I saw a symptom of lung cancer. "You need to go see a doctor, Joe." I said.

He snorted. "I've got you. I don't need a damn doctor."

I glared at him, anger at his stubbornness coursing through me. "Joseph Liebgott, you're going to a fucking doctor." We bickered for several minutes before he finally caved and said fuck it and went the next morning.

All throughout the morning I spent my time pacing and stressing myself out. I knew the signs of cancer well, and coughing up blood was a sure fire sign. He had always smoked, even after the media started telling the public that they were very bad for you. It hadn't been until Bob Doyle got diagnosed with a mild case of lung cancer did Joe actually try to stop. I know he tried. But every now and then he'd come home from a stressful day from work with the stale scent of cigarettes on his breath.

So, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when Joe came back from the doctor's office with an ashen color to his face. The second I saw him, I rushed over and grasped his hands. "Joe?" I asked quietly. He looked like he was about to collapse so I helped him into his chair. I crouched in front of him and stared up at him, beginning to feel scared. "Joseph Liebgott, what happened?"

Joe locked eyes with me and his eyes looked like they were starting to water. "Lung cancer. I got lung cancer."

I felt like the earth below my feet started to rock uncontrollably. My knees started to wobble and for a second I thought that I was about to fall down. But I forced myself to look him in the eyes and remain steady, for him.

Joe had been as steady as the ground below my feet for as long as I could remember. Now it was my turn to do the same for him. "What did...what did the doctor say 'bout treatin' it? 'Bout taking care of it?"

"He said it's stage _three._ " Joe said, using a term I had come to hate. "According to him, the cancer progressed really fucking fast and spread to both lungs and it's starting up my throat." The way he said these things was as if he was checking them off a list. My head started spinning and I slumped down to the floor right beside his chair, keeping an iron lock on his hand.

I get all of the facts from Joe's doctor the next morning after I personally go in there and ask. The cancer had done a good job at remaining hidden but was finally now showing itself. The cancer was treatable, but it was a long shot to actually stop the cancer from...from killing Joe.

"How much is chemotherapy?" I asked immediately. "How much is the treatment that can save him?"

The doctor gave me a sad look. "I told you, Mrs. Liebgott. If we start treatment now, there is very slim chance of it killing all of the cancer."

"But there's still a chance," I fired back. "Are you married, doctor-" I read his name tag. "Dr. Cruse. Because if you were, you would know that you would anything or take _any_ chance to save them." Dr. Cruse watched me carefully and sighed heavily before writing out how much chemotherapy would cost and for how long Joe would have to take it.

When I saw the numbers, my stomach sunk a little bit, but I forced myself to keep my face blank and I took the long list of chemicals involved with chemotherapy and the cost of it all back home. But the second Joe read over the list, and then the cost, he tore up the piece of paper.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, widening my eyes at him. Joe looked back at me, a certain type of calm covering his face.

"I'm not gonna use chemo," He said.

I stared at him, the familiar tug of frustration at his stubbornness starting to pull. "Why not?"

Joe glanced in the direction of the Doyle house. "You saw what happened to Bob when he started chemotherapy. I'm not turning into that."

"Bob's done with it now!" I said. "He's cancer free."

"He only had the first stage of lung cancer, not the third." Joe countered, his voice getting higher with the unmistakable sounds of frustration. "Cruse should've told you that I'm too far along for any of that shit." He stopped talking and stepped forward, cupping my face into his hands. "Di, I'm not dying bald and too drugged up to know what's going on around me. If I can choose how I'm going, then I'm going down my way."

There was a steel in his voice, letting me know that he wasn't going to be changing his mind about this. The thought of watching him die slowly from this disease brought tears to my eyes. I leaned my forehead against Joe's chest, in the spot where I had so often fallen asleep. Joe wrapped his arms around me as tightly as he could, and he rested his chin right on the top of my head. We stayed that way for several minutes, both of us knowing the exact outcome of this refusal of treatment.

* * *

I got one more year with Joseph Liebgott. And throughout that year, he took to walking with a cane, refusing the wheelchair. We spent a lot of time sitting on our front porch, watching the neighborhood go by. Our kids and grandkids visited countless times, all of them knowing what was happening and knowing that their time with their father and grandfather now limited. During many of these visits, Joe would hold the youngest two grandchildren, Becca and Emma, on his lap and they would laugh at the rough and raspy way he talked now.

Easy Company also swarmed the place the moment they figured out what was happening. Men like Winters would sit with Joe for long amounts of time, talking to each other about God knows what. Joe never told me the conversations he had with our former commander, and I never asked.

And then, I woke up on June twenty-eighth of nineteen-ninety-two, to find that Joe had passed away in his sleep. I had spent a long time of that first five minutes in some manic state of denial, trying and failing to wake him up. By the time I realized that he was dead, gone and dead, tears had almost blinded me and I couldn't move from the bedside where I had tried so hard to wake him up.

* * *

There are certain traditions you have to do when it comes to Jewish funerals. I had gotten a taste of it when Mrs. Liebgott passed, and now I was in charge of it. The body of the deceased can not be left alone, so my kids and I take shifts when it comes to being with Joe as his funeral is being prepared. I had a long meeting with the rabbi of Joe's church and we set a time for the funeral and got everything ready for the day.

Just like with any Easy funeral, Easy flocked to San Francisco once more. My brothers flocked around me, surrounding me and trying their damnedest to keep me from feeling helpless. They did a good job, seeing as how I somehow never had a moment to myself anymore. Every moment I was either with family, with Easy, the neighbors, or the rabbi in charge of everything.

It didn't really help that ever since I had found him like that, I hadn't been able to shed another tear. You think it'd be all I was able to do; but I hadn't had time to or I just couldn't.

The funeral finally happened, and Joe was buried in a nearby military cemetery. How many times had we passed this cemetery on the way to go visit Vicky upstate? And now Joe would be laid to rest here; one day so will I. The funeral was bigger than I thought, with all of Easy bringing their families and Joe's former coworkers and my former coworkers and our neighbors and our children and grandchildren. Joe is lowered into the ground, and my chest feels even heavier afterwards instead of lighter.

When we got home after the funeral, I went upstairs into my bedroom and shut the door. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my hands. My once young hands had become wrinkled and pale. I shut my eyes tightly and leaned forward until my forehead rested on my knees. I don't know how long I stayed like that, but I heard my family on the other side of my door, pacing past. I let out a dry sob, pain exploding in my forehead and chest.

Crying seemed like it'd be the one thing I'd be able to do right now. I had lost my husband of forty-six years; crying was what I was _supposed_ to be doing right now. But no tears were coming. Instead I could feel the buildup behind my eyelids and it was now at the point where it was becoming painful.

The door creaked open and footsteps walked towards me. I didn't look up, even as the person sat down right beside me. A sudden arm was around my shoulders and I recognized Malarkey's touch instantly. I looked up at him with pain, and I was pretty sure that my agony was etched onto my face. Malarkey's face twisted with hurt and he hugged me tightly. I buried my face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, holding onto him as tightly as possible.

I had met Joe when I was nineteen years old. We had fallen in love during World War Two. We were married in the early spring of nineteen-forty-six and we had lived a good life in San Francisco. And now he was dead and buried, leaving me behind.


	29. 29: Every Night

I started smoking a few months after Joe died. I was seventy years old and, according to my doctor, my lungs weren't in the best place after breathing in secondhand smoke for several years. But, honestly, I didn't give a shit anymore. The first time I lit up a cigarette, I inhaled the wrong way and ended up coughing for several minutes. It tasted like I was licking an ashtray. How the hell did Joe and the others stand this for several years? But, in no time, I eventually got used to the taste and the nicotine started to take an effect.

My house was too big for me now. I was an old woman, living alone for the first time in her life. I didn't realize until after Joe had died that I had never lived alone. Before the Army, I was with Sally and Mary and Elizabeth, then Easy, and then Joe. I was finally alone for the first time in my whole life, and I hated it. I missed living with someone, with anyone.

For this reason, Malarkey, Luz, Guarnere, and Toye all lived with me for about a month. They crammed themselves into one of the bedrooms across the hall to sleep. I was having a lot of trouble with sleeping lately. Malarkey mentioned something about how I was so used to having Joe there right beside me. This still made it hurt like hell.

In the months following Joe's funeral, there are countless times where I feel like I can still feel Joe around the house. Right before I open my eyes in the morning, I feel like he's still laying in bed, either asleep or waiting for me to wake up. Whenever the house creaked, I could swear that it's the sound of Joe's footsteps. But then I wake up or I remind myself what really happened. And then I feel like crying or like laying down some more, not wanting to even face the day if Joe wasn't anywhere near me.

One night, after my brothers went home to their wives and families, I had a dream. I saw Joe with the little girl we had lost, the pair of them sitting on a bench and both looking at peace. I woke up right afterwards and tears filled my eyes instantaneously. I laid in bed for the longest time, thinking hard about what I had dreamed about. And, after a restless hour or so, I fell back to sleep with a small smile on my face.

* * *

In ninety-five, I got a call in the middle of the night from Buck. He reported that Nixon had passed away, and that the funeral was early next week. I quickly wrote down the information and collapsed back into bed. Lewis Nixon, dead? The idea was so foreign in my mind I couldn't even imagine a world without Nixon. When I got there for the funeral, I was reunited with Easy again on sad circumstances.

Winters was the man we instantly surrounded for support. He had been Nixon's best friend before and during the war that brought us all together. We stayed with Winters for as long as we could, telling stories and remembering Nixon for the man he had been.

"He helped me, back in Germany," I said at some point. The men all looked up, none of them ever hearing this story before. "After I got that letter from Sally, I went to Nixon to get drunk. He helped me out that night."

This was met with silence, and Winters smiled softly. His red hair had long turned snowy white, and right now it shined in the light. He reached over patted my hand, and I squeezed it back.

Later that same year, Toye died too. One of my first friends from Toccoa was now gone, and when I got to see his wife and family again for the funeral, I saw that Toye's son was a mirror image of him. Jason came with to the funeral, helping me travel and going to see what the remaining men of Easy were doing. His daughter was almost fifteen now, and she was starting to show an interest in her dad's military career and the military as a whole.

On the plane ride to Pennsylvania, Jason told me about how Sarah was already going to the library to pick up books on the ASVAB. Jason shook his head and smiled, almost to himself. "She's going into high school, Mama, and she already has a whole plan set up with the military."

"Is it the Army she wants to join?" I asked.

"I think so," Jason said, tearing open a bag of peanuts. "Jesus, now I know how you and Dad felt when I said I enlisted. I figured out why you were pissed the second we landed on Vietnam."

"Yeah, well, don't try and talk Sarah out of it." I advised. "In my experience, the more you try to talk your kids out of something, the more they're gonna try and do it. That's the way it was you and Vicky. Just talk to her and make sure she understands what will happen if there's another war coming on."

Jason blinked at that and had a solemn look on his face. "D'you wanna talk to her? Sarah could spend a week living with you or something. Winnie wasn't on the frontlines; you were. If Sarah ends up where you ended up, then I want her to hear what you have to say about it all."

"I'll see what I can do," I said. At the moment, there wasn't a war going on. As long as it stayed that way, I couldn't see why Sarah would be stationed somewhere dangerous. And besides, she was only fourteen right now. She could change her mind about all of this by the time she's eighteen.

* * *

As time went by, I went to even more funerals. Bob and Hana died within a month of each other; Hana going first from some kind of blood disease, and then Bob dying of a broken heart. June passed away from a stroke in ninety-nine. Luz died in ninety-eight, something that tore me up from the inside out for months afterwards. America got into another war after terrorists crashed two planes into the Twin Towers in New York, and Sarah Liebgott ended up stationed in Afghanistan as a nurse. And yet, life went on.

I got to see my grandchildren grow up and have their own children. My hair finally turned completely white, not a single auburn hair left. Warren was diagnosed with lung cancer, but he had stage one and it was completely treatable. I managed to quit smoking for good in two-thousand-two, but, a few years later, I found out that it didn't matter.

I was diagnosed with my own case of lung cancer in two-thousand-nine. It was stage two when they found it, but it was progressing fast enough to almost be at stage three. They asked if I wanted to treat it with chemotherapy, and I refused. I was eighty-seven, living longer than I had once imagined. At this point, I was tired. I had seen the effects of chemotherapy on all kinds of cancer patients throughout my life; I didn't want to turn into that.

I'd rather let the cancer kill me than let the drugs do that.

Surprisingly enough, I got another five years. The cancer spread slowly through both of my lungs, up towards my throat, and then finally started creeping to my heart. I stayed in my house, stubborn enough not to sell it. I rewrote my will from the one I had when I was twenty.

The house and all of its contents would be divided amongst my five children. The money I had in the bank-half of it would go to the hospital I had worked at (the hospital that was taking care of me) and the other half would then be divided in half to the Catholic and Jewish churches that Joe and I had both gone to. There were a few things I wanted to be buried with, like my medals and the brass knuckles Toye had given me all those years ago.

Emma, my youngest grandchild, stayed with me most days. She helped take care of me, since I could no longer move around on my own anymore. She kept me company, kept my house clean, basically did everything for me that I could no longer do.

In twenty-fourteen, I was about to turn ninety-two years old. I had lived a very long life, considering how I once made myself think that any day could be my last. I had met some of the greatest men in my life, men who had remained with me throughout my entire life. Guarnere had died just a month ago, and that seemed to be a final straw health wise. My doctor told me that I had a few weeks, maybe a month at the most. I was abnormally fine with this; I'd be with members of Easy again.

When the time came, I'd be ready. I had lived a long life. Most of it in peace, which was what everyone from Easy deserved. I think, for the most part, everyone from Easy got that life in peace. Everyone had met someone who helped them get better, everyone lived into old age, and now, I could only imagine everyone up in heaven waiting patiently for the rest of us to join them.

I thought about the men who had already passed away: Luz, Toye, Nixon, Grant, Webster, Winters, Perconte, Guarnere, Skip, Joe...and the idea of death didn't seem scary at all.


	30. Author's Note

**A/N: Thank you so so much for reading this story! To everyone who reviewed, alerted, or added this story to their favorites, thank you. I really enjoyed writing this story and I'm glad that others apparently cared enough about Diana and "Chasing the Sun" that they followed all the way over here.**

 **There aren't a lot of songs I listened to for this one, but here are the ones I did listen to.**

 **Not Alone - Red**

 **Goner - twenty one pilots**

 **Ghost of You - My Chemical Romance**

 **Every Night - Imagine Dragons**

 **Once again, thank you to everyone who read this story and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **-Katie**


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